


The Many Faces Go To War

by Fayanora



Series: The Many Faces of Adira Potter [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Asperger Syndrome, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Character, F/F, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Multiple Personalities, Multiplicity/Plurality, Original Autistic Character, Queer Character, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Harry Potter, Transformation, Transgender, transgender Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 23:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 109,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13154076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayanora/pseuds/Fayanora
Summary: Voldemort has risen again, and the Potter collective has to fight him and his Death Eaters, the fate of the nation rests on their shoulders. Sequel to "The Many Faces of Har--er, Adira Potter."





	1. Always On My Mind

“ **The Many Faces Go To War: Chapter 1”**

By = Fayanora

 

**Chapter One: Always On My Mind**

 

**Note 1:** This is the first chapter of the sequel to “The Many Faces of Har---er, Adira Potter.” If you haven't read that series yet, this one isn't going to make much sense.

 

Also, a reminder for anyone who forgot: the person formerly known as Harry still exists, she's just transgender in this one, her new name is Adira.

 

**Note 2:** Text in _'Italics and British quotes'_ is Parseltongue.

 

**Note 3:** Things taken directly from canon will be scarce now, as the plot is massively diverging now.

 

_**Note 4:**_ _I have different styles for the internal speech of_ _ **Alastair**_ _, Adira,_ _Zoey_ _, #_ ** _ **Iliana (bold, italic, underlined, and between hashtags/pound signs**_** _ _ **.**__ _ _# ,__ __{Tier}, ~Chandra,~__

_%_ __Mother AKA Avani Maznah, %_ _ and _(_ __Hypatia/Megan.)_ _

 

_**Note 5:**_ _All hail Our Lady Of Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling!_

 

***FAYANORA***

 

Iliana was riding a motorcycle, dressed like a bad-ass biker chick with no helmet, which Sirius would hate, but her hair was flying in the breeze, so she didn't care. As she rode along, the motorcycle gently lifted off the ground and flew into the air, the cars and houses below becoming like toys as she flew through the sunshine. She felt amazing as she flew higher and higher into the sky, laughing with glee.

 

Luna was behind her on the bike, holding on tight, and _she_ at least was wearing a helmet, but one that showed her face, which was alive with joy and laughter, and was older. Luna looked about 19 or 20, in fact. Iliana looked at herself in a mirror and saw she was around the same age, even though the sunglasses she wore were making it difficult to tell.

 

That wasn't right, though. The daylight was bright enough that she couldn't _possibly_ be wearing sunglasses. But she didn't question it; she was having too much fun.

 

Suddenly, though, the day grew darker. The puffy white clouds became dark, flashing with lightning. It started to rain, a terribly cold rain that soaked them to the bone in less than a minute.

 

“We should land!” Iliana shouted.

 

“We can't!” Luna shouted back, gesturing down with her head.

 

Iliana looked down and saw they were flying over a turbulent sea.

 

“Shit! We should go back!”

 

“We can't! They'll catch us!”

 

“Who?”

 

“You know who!”

 

Iliana looked into one of her rear-view mirrors. Sure enough, a familiar hideous, snake-like human face was leering at her as he flew behind her on the back of a Norwegian Ridgeback dragon.

 

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

 

With a flash of green light, Luna's life left her eyes just before she slumped over and fell into the ocean. Iliana woke up screaming.

 

She kept screaming, but something wasn't right. It didn't sound like her own voice, it was pitched too deep to be hers. But still, she screamed. A black form on the floor beside her bed lifted its shaggy head and whined at her with concern. Someone came running, the door opening, and a familiar scarred face came in, looking around for the danger, his wand drawn.

 

The black dog jumped onto the bed and nuzzled her. She stopped screaming, and started to cry instead, her head in her arms. The black dog got closer and snuggled against her, his warm, fuzzy body comforting her.

 

“Are you okay, pup?” Remus asked. “What's the matter?”

 

She couldn't answer, she just kept crying. Padfoot, the dog, looked up at his old friend and whined. Somehow, Remus understood what he meant.

 

“Ah, another nightmare?” Remus asked. Padfoot nodded, then put his head back down on his fore-paws.

 

They'd been having a lot of nightmares lately, more than usual. They ranged from vaguely unsettling dreams about a body that didn't fit right, to nightmares like tonight's, or even worse. As horrifying as it had been to watch Luna die just now, at least it wasn't a graveyard dream. Some of those had been especially horrible. Cedric died in some of them, while others ended with an Avada Kedavra flying right at their own face. Luna had been in some of those, as well.

 

A month and a half. A month and a half of nightmares, of Adira and Iliana crying in frustration at being trapped in Alastair's body, of even Zoey going slightly mad and throwing things around the room in a fit. A month and a half of fear, and anger, and emotions not so easily categorized. And as if that wasn't bad enough, their scar was burning more often than not. It happened so much now that Remus and Sirius no longer freaked out about it, only looked quietly concerned and sympathetic.

 

They had explained that the scar likely burned because Voldemort, back to full power, was feeling strong emotions. Since they were an accidental horcrux, it would likely keep happening until the link was severed or they died, whichever came first.

 

So much frustration. No magic, no leaving the house, and even their non-magical plans were falling through. Fudge was keeping a tight grip on both __The Daily Prophet_ _ and __Witch Weekly_ _ _,_ and they were writing articles about them and Dumbledore and Cedric every day all summer, trying to discredit the people responsible for releasing the truth about Voldemort to the masses.

 

Annoyingly, Fudge's plan was working, but according to things they'd overheard or been told, it was taking him a __lot_ _ of work. It was, after all, very hard to suppress the truth when there were two eyewitnesses, one of whom was legally an adult. Even with Death Eaters on his side, Fudge was losing ground. It was a testament to his tenacity that he'd held on this long, honestly.

 

Oh yes, and how could they forget, even for a moment, that the horrible anti-werewolf legislation making it nearly impossible for werewolves to get jobs had passed, despite Andromeda Tonks and Sirius fighting it? Made all the more enraging because Dumbledore had done essentially nothing to help. He hadn't actively hindered, but his mysterious refusal to help had been just as bad. Despite that, though, Remus still thought highly of Dumbledore, for having let him be a student and a teacher at Hogwarts. Al had given up on convincing Remus of Dumbledore being a self-serving dingbat at that point. Sirius was on his side, though.

 

About the only good thing about the summer was that they were in Sirius's family's old house with the Weasleys and Hermione, cleaning it out slowly and in secret, because it was the new headquarters for Dumbledore's vigilante group, “The Order of the Phoenix,” and the place had been sitting to rot for who knew how many years. It wasn't a very cheerful place to live, but it was plenty big enough, and was a lot more secure than the flat had been, even with the Fidelius, since it had all kinds of protections on it like it being unplottable, as well as other things only dark wizards would know about.

 

This of course had meant they'd had their birthday with most of their friends. Javier wasn't there, and neither was Luna, for they hadn't been trusted with the secret, despite Iliana's and Al's pleading. And then, in the middle of the happiness of their birthday, Mrs. Weasley had tried taking on a boggart by herself, and it had imitated the dead bodies of everyone she loved, one at a time. Only the timely intervention of Moody, who had a new magical eye (purple, this time) had gotten her the comfort she needed from the worry and terror.

 

“Are you okay now, pup?” Remus asked. Iliana frowned slightly. Remus only used that nickname when he wasn't sure which of them was in control of the body.

 

“I'm better.”

 

“Want to talk about it?”

 

She hugged her legs. “Luna was in it. We were happy. Then __he_ _ came, and she died.”

 

Remus sat down next to her. “Care for a hug, Iliana?”

 

“Please.”

 

Remus hugged her. Her eyes watered, but she didn't cry again.

 

After several minutes, she gently shrugged him off. “I won't be able to sleep again tonight. I'm going to do some work.”

 

The concern in Remus's face altered at this. She knew why; they'd been working on their project to invent weapons they could use against Voldemort every spare moment all summer. It had become an obsession, and they'd had some successes. Iliana had a very promising potion she was still working on. She couldn't brew potions in the house, as there was no potions lab and nobody to watch her as she worked, but she had done all the abstract work. She was going to run it past Professor Snape at some point, see what he thought of it.

 

An unopened letter from Draco Malfoy lay on the desk as she sat down. She tossed it aside. Hypatia had started ignoring Draco in favor of working on their project. She hadn't at first. In fact, she'd brought him in on the project somewhat. But she was getting frustrated with his lack of results and his constant questions of why she was asking him for help when she was so much better at it than he was. It was especially irritating because Hypatia knew Draco __was_ _ a lot of help, when they were working in person. But it just wasn't the same, trading letters back and forth.

 

Iliana worked so long that she ignored the call to breakfast. Having done all she could on her most promising potion, she'd been working on something else instead. It wasn't directly related to Voldemort, and was way over her head, but sometimes it helped her to think about it anyway. After all, if she could improve the Wolfsbane Potion, or invent a replacement, that would be a huge win for werewolves and the people who loved them. But it was busywork; well past N.E.W.T. standard, and she knew she wasn't really understanding much of any of it. Even Hermione had balked at it the one time she'd read through the books and Iliana's notes.

 

With all the old dark magic books in the Black family library that Hypatia had insisted on saving from the bin, you'd think she'd have been in ritual magic heaven, but working on ritual magic when their magic was still not working was possibly the most frustrating thing yet. Sure, a lot could be done with maths, but a lot of it needed experimentation and practice. She'd given up when, in a fit of irritated rage, she'd hit the book with her fist so hard it broke the spine.

 

Luckily, though, there was only two weeks left until they got their magic back, assuming they hadn't lost it forever by mistake.

 

Their mind now occupied – again – by that worry, they gave up on their work and noticed a plate of food on a tray next to the desk. Suddenly ravenous, they pushed their things aside and began to chow down.

 

They were nearly done when there was a knock at the door.

 

“Who is it?”

 

“It's me, pup,” Sirius said.

 

“Come in.”

 

Sirius came in, closing the door behind him. His expression was hard to read, and lately they'd come to realize how much they'd been relying on their empathic sense, which made it harder than usual now it was gone.

 

“How are you doing, pup?”

 

“Not great. We can't get over what happened in the graveyard. Cedric and I—no, Cedric and us? We and Cedric? Anyway, we nearly died! Voldemort was there, as were a bunch of other Death Eaters. I saw someone else die, turned into pulp by that mega-patronus. I've been having nightmares, I feel helpless without my magic, these projects aren't really helping me, and even after nearly two months it still feels weird being in Al's body all the time.”

 

Sirius came over to the desk and gave them a hug. “Which one of you just said that?”

 

“Iliana,” Iliana said. “But Adira was thinking a lot of it herself. She's more frustrated than I am by this whole thing.”

 

Sirius sighed gently. “I wish I knew how to help you, beyond making sure you're safe here.”

 

“I could use a distraction of some kind. Something other than this lot,” she said, gesturing to their projects.

 

“Well I can help you there, at least. You missed the announcement earlier at breakfast, but Dumbledore offered me the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.”

 

She looked up. “And what did you say?”

 

“It was a hard sell. He said the Ministry was angling to choose someone for the position if he couldn't fill it, one of their people. So I took the position, on the stipulation – like Moody did – that it would only be for a year. He accepted. I'm the new Defense teacher for this year.”

 

“I don't know how to feel about that. It'll be good seeing you every week, maybe even every day, but the position is cursed. I'm worried.”

 

He shrugged. “I'll take that risk. It helps Dumbledore, yes, but it also puts me in a position to protect you if something comes up.”

 

“What did the Ministry think of your appointment?”

 

“Dunno. I doubt they'll be happy about it, though.”

 

“Probably not. So what are you going to teach us?”

 

“What I'm good at; I'm gonna teach you dueling. I've been practicing since I got released from St. Mungo's back in your third year, when I can. A lot more this summer, between Chandra soundly whipping me and Voldemort being back.”

 

“Ah, that explains the sounds from the dueling room,” she said, smiling.

 

“Yeah. And now I have even more reason to practice.”

 

“If—when we get our magic back, I want to practice with you. There's no telling what shape our magic will be in when it returns.”

 

“Sure thing, pup. Let me know when it comes back and we'll do that.”

 

“Oh you'll know when it comes back, because the first thing we're going to do when it does is let Addy out.”

 

He smiled. “I'll keep a lookout for Addy, then.”

 

“Thanks, Sirius.”

 

“No problem. Can I help distract you today?”

 

“I dunno. Can you? If you can, I'd welcome that.”

 

“Alright, then, how about I chase you around the dueling room in dog form?”

 

She thought about that. “Sure, why not?”

 

“Alright, let's go do that, then.”

 

~

 

At dinner later that night, everyone was eating and talking about Sirius's position and wondering who was going to be the new History teacher, since that horrible Umbridge woman had passed her anti-werewolf legislation and gotten him fired. Everyone was agreed that as long as it wasn't Binns again, it couldn't get any worse.

 

The doorbell rang, setting off the screaming portrait of Sirius's mother again. Sirius ran out to open the door for whoever it was, and to shut up the portrait. That portrait was another frustration; without their magic, Hypatia couldn't gain enough information about the thing from diagnostic spells to work out how to get rid of it. She had some ideas of what it might be, though, and possible solutions. So once they knew for sure, she could probably get rid of it fairly easily.

 

Soon, the source of the commotion came running into the kitchen where everyone was eating. It was a pink-haired Nymphadora Tonks, or just 'Tonks' if you valued your face being whole. She stopped, barely winded at all she was in such great shape, and spoke.

 

“Cedric Diggory got attacked by a dementor! He's okay, he managed to hold it back with patronus mist long enough to run and Apparate away, but he was in a Muggle area at the time, so he's being charged with using magic in front of Muggles. I don't think anyone saw anything, but the Obliviators are scouring the area anyway.”

 

“Voldemort!” Iliana shouted. “He must've sent the dementor!”

 

“Could be,” Tonks said. “He has reason to want Cedric to stop talking about him. But I dunno, Fudge is having a devil of a time keeping the truth from spreading, he's got just as much reason to want Cedric dead or worse.”

 

Iliana growled. “Damn those dementors! Once this whole war is over, we're going to eliminate them. Find some way to bind them in place and then do the mega-patronus again to kill them all, the horrible things.”

 

“Where's Cedric now?” Sirius asked.

 

“At the Ministry. He's been arrested. Arthur and Amos are trying to talk them out of it, but Fudge is seriously desperate, he's not going to let this one go without a fight.”

 

“Dammit. Has anyone told Dumbledore?”

 

“I sent him a Patronus message as soon as I heard,” Tonks said. “I was in the Ministry at the time. I asked Amos and Arthur if they needed help, they just told me to spread the word through the Order.”

 

There was another ring of the doorbell, setting off the portrait all over again. Sirius went back out again. While he was still struggling with the curtains around his mother's portrait, Snape came in.

 

“Severus, do you have more news of Cedric?” Remus asked.

 

Snape frowned. “Something happened to young Mr. Diggory?”

 

“Attacked by Dementors, got away with a weak patronus, then got arrested for doing magic in a Muggle area.”

 

“How unfortunate,” he said dryly. “But not what I'm here for. I would like to speak with Potter alone for a moment. Something has transpired, something I need to ask her about.”

 

Sirius came into the room then. “You're not taking them anywhere alone, Snape. Not if I have anything to say about it, and I do.”

 

Snape sneered at Sirius. “I do not have time for your games, Black. So if you wish to join us, you may. But what I have to say to Potter is not for any other student ears.”

 

Sirius looked surprised that Snape hadn't fought him, but nodded. The three of them went into the drawing room. Snape cast every privacy ward he knew on the room. Sirius looked concerned by all the security.

 

That done, Snape turned to Iliana. “Potter, something happened in that graveyard you haven't told anyone. I need to know what you are hiding.”

 

She frowned at him, and felt Al frowning as well. “We told Dumbledore everything that happened. Hypatia has a photographic memory, she's incapable of forgetting anything. Maybe you're the one forgetting something.”

 

Snape gritted his teeth but remained calm. “Fine. Then I would like you to review the events, in minute chronological detail since you insist you're capable of it. Something happened there, something I cannot recall hearing about, and I must know what it is.”

 

Iliana sighed. Hypatia took over control and began doing exactly as Snape asked, describing absolutely every detail in chronological order, but she didn't get far when he stopped her.

 

“Stop. Please repeat that last line, Miss Williams.”

 

“'Yes. And Bella, remember, they have the Philosopher's Stone inside their worthless body somehow. You've been itching to torture someone, I suggest you try it on Potter.'”

 

Snape didn't respond at first, he was too busy mulling over what she'd said. Then he groaned and pressed the bridge of his nose in irritation.

 

“What is it?”

 

The sallow man looked up again, asking his next question like he was dreading the answer she'd give. “What did he mean when he said you have the Philosopher's Stone in your body?”

 

“Zoey keeps the Philosopher's Stone inside our body, she pulls it in when she transforms away to someone else, can pull it back out when we become her again. We don't know how it works, but he used our blood once he realized he couldn't get the Philosopher's Stone out of Zoey, since it only comes out when she gives it up willingly.”

 

Snape was massaging the bridge of his nose again. “Damn you Dumbledore, for not telling me important things like this! Ugh. Thank you, Miss Williams. I now have a diagnosis. Not that it helps me figure out what to do about it.”

 

“Why is this relevant? Do we get to know that?” She paused. “Wait... did the ritual activate the Stone?”

 

He sighed. “Dumbledore told me I should tell you, since you are apparently privy to more information than I am, and he thinks you might be able to help, Miss Williams. So I can tell you that the dark lord is... not well.”

 

“Well we knew that already.”

 

“Not in the _head!_ He is physically ill. I have not been able to diagnose his condition until now. He is weak, he coughs frequently, his bones break with the slightest pressure, and he is severely anemic. I have had him taking up to three blood replenishing potions daily, and I have been repairing his bones with my wand. The one time I tried giving him Skele-Gro... well, it did not work as it should have, and I am lucky to be alive right now because of it. Something went wrong during the resurrection ritual.”

 

Hypatia smiled. “So you think the Stone got activated when he took our blood? If so, you should check his blood for microscopic pieces of Philosopher's Stone.”

 

“Yes, that's what I was thinking too, once you told me about that damnable Stone being in your body. Now I just have to figure out what to do about it.”

 

“You could let it kill him. Or kill him prematurely. It would be the humane thing to do.”

 

“Excuse me,” Sirius said. “Someone want to clue me in on what's going on?”

 

Hypatia turned the body's head to Sirius. “Professor Snape and I suspect Voldemort using our blood to rebuild his body was a seriously bad idea for him. We suspect that pieces of Philosopher's Stone too small to see with the naked eye are in his blood, activated by the resurrection ritual. If we're right, those pieces are transmuting all the metals in his body into gold. The gold won't likely kill him, but anemia and bone loss probably will, in time. Unless the pieces are also making elixir of life. In which case, leaving him alone will likely make him turn into a writhing ball of utter agony that can never die unless killed by an outside force.”

 

Sirius's jaw dropped. “Wait, what? I mean... I get the blood thing, there's iron in blood, but bones? Why are his bones being affected?”

 

“The main ingredient keeping bones strong is calcium, which is a metal. Gold is a metal as well, but it's a soft and heavy metal, no good for making bones.”

 

Once he finally got it, Sirius started laughing harder than she'd heard from him all summer. He was laughing harder than he'd laughed at the mustache prank on the train home, and had fallen to the ground. Very soon, Iliana was joining him in the laughter, while Snape watched them with exasperation but yes, also a little amusement. The dark lord had himself in quite a pickle indeed.

 

When they stopped laughing, Snape said, “You two do realize, I hope, that you are not allowed to tell anyone else what you know about the dark lord's condition. Not even your friends Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. I likely would have had to get your help even if you hadn't mastered occlumency, but the fact you have done so made the decision easier. I've been told you know occlumency too, Black?”

 

“Yeah. Standard Black family education, occlumency is.”

 

“I see. Well as I say, neither of you are to tell _anyone_ about the dark lord's condition, do you understand? If it gets back to the dark lord and his followers that you know, it would destroy my usefulness as a spy, if not get me killed. And as much as I know you would love to see me die, Black, I can assure you many more will die without me to spy on the dark lord for Dumbledore.”

 

“Fine, Snivellus, the secret is safe with me.”

 

“I have filed the information away safely so only I can access it,” Hypatia said. “But I still need to know what you intend to do, and if you require any more help from me.”

 

“I have to tell the dark lord I know what his condition is, now. I will have to tell him what the options are; death and a new resurrection ritual, or an eternal lifetime of torment to make the Cruciatus Curse feel like a warm bath by comparison. If I do not, he will grow irritated with my inability to diagnose him, and kill me.

 

“As to help from you, Miss Williams, I doubt I'll need it. Curing a problem like this any other way would take too long for the dark lord's patience. He won't be happy to have to be killed again, but since he knows that he has loyal followers now who can and will help him again, he will do it.”

 

“How much pain is he in right now?”

 

“Enough that I have to limit his intake of pain relief potions, lest he overdose.”

 

Hypatia smiled. “It will be a struggle not telling anyone, but the secret is safe with us.”

 

“See that it is,” Snape said.

 

With that, he tore down the wards he'd cast and left the room, then the building. Sirius and Iliana returned to the kitchen.

 

“What was that all about?” Ron asked.

 

“Can't tell you. Sworn to secrecy. Only reason he told us at all is he needed our help with a problem he couldn't solve himself. That and we figured out what was going on from context.”

 

Ron frowned at them. They shrugged.

 

“Sorry, mate. I can't tell you. And a certain someone in here has made certain I couldn't tell you even if I wanted.”

 

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, then back at Iliana. He mouthed, 'Hypatia?' She nodded, and he relaxed into a stance of understanding and reluctant acceptance. She knew they would understand now.

 

They hadn't been done eating supper, so they went back to the table to finish.

 

“Sirius?” Iliana asked between bites.

 

“Yes, pup?”

 

“I don't think I can get through the rest of this summer without Luna here. Can we invite her for the summer?”

 

Sirius smiled. “Well okay, as long as you promise not to go doing anything risky with her, if you catch my drift.”

 

“Ugh. Like I'd do that in this version of the body. No, if we ever get around to that point, it'll be in my own version of the body, thank you very much.”

 

Ron looked confused. “What do two girls do with each other for that sort of thing, anyway?”

 

“RONALD WEASLEY!” Mrs. Weasley shouted. “That is a terribly rude thing to ask! Am I going to have to wash your mouth out with a scouring charm?”

 

Ron's face turned red. “No, Mum. I'm sorry.”

 

“Anyway,” Sirius said with a grin, “you can invite her tonight if you can catch her on the two-way mirror. Then if her father says yes, I'll Apparate over there to escort her here.”

 

“Thanks, Sirius.”

 

The rest of dinner was spent talking more about Cedric's arrest and the potential fallout from that. What the Ministry would do about it, how Fudge might use it to his advantage, and so on. Iliana finished eating as fast as she could without being disgusting about it, intent on talking with Luna.

 

When Iliana was upstairs again, she grabbed the two-way mirror with Luna's name on it.

 

“Luna Lovegood.”

 

A few moments later, Luna appeared in the mirror. “Iliana?” she asked uncertainly, sounding hopeful.

 

“Yes, it's me.”

 

“Oh good. I didn't think the others would have any reason to talk to me, but I wasn't sure. How are you?”

 

“Not great. Frustrated all the time, as you already know. I've been angry a lot because of it as well. I've been trying to distract myself with projects to finish later, but honestly I've done all I can now. I can't brew potions here, and everything else needs magic.”

 

“How are the twins doing on their end?”

 

“Mostly focused on using the money for joke stuff, since that's what's going to sell best. They've run a few war ideas past us, but they're adamant that focusing on the joke part of the joke shop will pay off later, they have to save up for when they leave school.”

 

“Ah, well, that is a good point.”

 

“Al told them we'll give them more money if they need it. They haven't asked for more yet.”

 

“They're proud that way, Iliana.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

“You look worried.”

 

“I am. Very much so. I had another nightmare last night. You were there. We were happy, until...”

 

“Was it the motorcycle one again?”

 

Iliana nodded, her eyes watering.

 

“Anyway, Luna, I called you because I need you here. Can you come over tomorrow? To stay the rest of the summer, I mean. Between being powerless and being cooped up in this dark and gross house, I don't think I can get through the rest of the month without you.”

 

“Well, I can ask Daddy.”

 

“Okay. When you do, tell him Sirius will come to escort you himself.”

 

“I'll tell him that. Hold on, I'll be back in a few minutes.”

 

She set the mirror down without shutting it off, and left the room. Iliana waited, looking at a spot on the wall of Luna's room through the mirror as she waited. A few minutes later, Luna appeared again, smiling.

 

“Daddy says he'll miss me very much, but if you need me, and I want to go, then he's happy to see me help you out.”

 

“Oh good. So I'll see you tomorrow?”

 

“Yes. Hmm... I don't really want to hang up already, but if I'm going to be leaving home early, I'll need to pack. I may keep my things in my trunk at school, but at home they tend to wander around the house. They like to travel. Which is part of why I didn't always mind so much when they'd go wandering the school. But, hmm...”

 

“Hey, don't worry about it. Knowing you'll be here tomorrow more than makes up for it. You go pack.”

 

Luna smiled again. “See you tomorrow, Iliana.”

 

“Bye!”

 

Luna signed 'I love you,' and Iliana signed it back to her. Then Luna shut the mirror off, and Iliana sighed, not knowing what to do with herself now.

 

~

 

Dumbledore was sitting in his office, thinking about the latest news from Severus Snape concerning Voldemort's deteriorating health. He was both amused and annoyed by the news. Amused for obvious reasons, annoyed because it meant the reinforced connection between Voldemort and the Potters would be breaking as soon as he died again to re-do the ritual, whenever that would be. They would still be bound by the unintentional horcrux in the Potters' body, though, he reminded himself.

 

It suddenly occurred to Dumbledore how elegant and symbolic it was that Voldemort, who split his soul many times and became less emotionally stable with each split, was facing an opponent who had extra souls inside their body, and could quite possibly one day use alchemy and rituals to give themselves their own bodies. Dumbledore had no idea how to go about that, it was well out of his area of expertise as it would probably require some rituals that were technically dark, but still, he knew enough to believe it possible. If they survived long enough to try it, that is.

 

He sighed; he hadn't been having a good summer. The Ministry was being ridiculous thanks to Fudge, leaving Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix to fight Voldemort alone. And worse than that, Fudge was trying to deflect attention away from Dumbledore's stance on Voldemort by bringing up his mistake of putting the Potter collective with the Dursleys. Dumbledore had decided, at last, to retire from the ICW. A woman he knew and trusted was now leading that esteemed group. He had also stepped down as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. It had actually been something of a blessing in disguise; with fewer responsibilities, he could focus more on the fight against Voldemort, and he was getting slightly more sleep now, too.

 

Still, Dumbledore refused to give up his position as Headmaster of Hogwarts. He loved Hogwarts too much to leave it willingly, and the Ministry was trying to mess around with it, so he had to defend the school from two enemies, now.

 

The one bit of good news was that the Dursleys had been prosecuted at last, without the Potters needing to come in at all. They were not going to enjoy being locked in a prison run by wizards, but at least it was one of the smaller, usually temporary jails and not Azkaban. Petunia, at least, was glad for that. Dudley Dursley had been a bit trickier to deal with; in the end, the Ministry had faked his parents' death (in a car crash, fittingly enough), changed his memory to match, and put him up with his Aunt Marge. The boy would be traumatized, but that couldn't be helped. Dumbledore just hoped he could convince the Ministry to move the Dursleys to a prison in France or elsewhere for their own protection, before Voldemort could harm them. Especially as he wasn't sure if the Potter collective would want to rescue them or not, and he wasn't sure which choice they made would be worse.

 

An owl tapped on his window, snapping him out of his thoughts. He got up and collected the letter from it, letting it inside to wait for a response before examining the letter. He did not recognize the handwriting. He cast some spells on it to check for magic, but it was ordinary parchment and ink, sealed with mundane wax.

 

_Dear Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore,_

 

_You do not know me, I'm sure, though you may recognize my name. It is Mahala Kalisha Kadu. I am the author of several world-famous books about wandless magic, as well as some moderately popular books about ritual magic, and books about the history of metamorphmagi._

 

_I write today because I have been hearing some extraordinary things out of Britain. Some of it did not concern or interest me, such as your Voldemort, but others... other things caught my attention. Specifically, tales about the famous Harry Potter having multiple souls in his – or I suppose I should say her, with her recent name and gender change – body. Fascinating tales such as multiple patronuses used in the Triwizard Tournament, and bodily transformations that baffled the best European Healers._

 

_All this was enough on its own to make me consider coming to Britain despite magical Britain's third-world status and recent history of violence. But then I heard the one thing that settled the matter for me, namely that the Potters managed to survive your Lord Voldemort shortly after his return from un-death, with an apparently ritual-fueled enormous Patronus of incredible power._

 

_No doubt you are wondering how I heard about that particular story. Well, I admit I am not as fussy about dark magic as many people are, though I never saw the appeal of going fully dark, either. So I have contacts in many places both high and low. One of Voldemort's Death Eaters made the idiotic mistake of going to a Knockturn Alley bar and talking, in shock, about the giant glowing naked woman who killed one of his comrades with an exploding arrow. Luckily for him, I do not think his master found out about his slip-up, and the only person he told was one of my contacts, a man well known for his discretion._

 

_Naturally, being an expert in many areas of magic, I recognized the description as a ritual-fueled Patronus. One of the cruder ways to kill a dementor – and yes, dementors can be killed, no matter what Europeans think – but the only one that is also effective against mortal opponents._

 

_I understand you will be very protective of the Potters this summer, so I will not come to Britain yet. I have some things to take care of in Indonesia first anyway, and I would like to stop by my home in Nairobi as well. I will likely be in transit from Indonesia to Nairobi by the time this letter reaches you. I predict I will be there another two weeks before taking a Portkey to Britain from there. I believe this should be enough time to ease your concern about Potter enough to at least speak with me about the possibility of meeting them. I have a hypothesis I would like to test. Namely, I think they are in fact a form of Metamorphmagus; I believe their plural nature made it manifest oddly._

 

_Other reasons to meet them: I could train them in wandless magic, especially its use in combat. I've become adept enough at this that I don't need a wand, though I do carry one just in case. I also have knowledge of ritual magic that I doubt anyone you would normally employ would have, and I know how to use it safely. I believe they would be better off with someone to apprentice with in regard to that sort of thing, unless you have forbidden them to continue and you believe they actually complied. Otherwise, despite your reputation for not liking ritual magic, would it not be better for them to learn from someone who knows what they are doing, than to experiment on their own? Ritual magic can go disastrously wrong, it is notoriously finicky._

 

_Well, send me an owl telling me your decision about whether or not to talk with me. I suggest you do; I also have some ideas about Voldemort that might interest you, especially about how he managed to survive a backfiring Killing Curse. Whether you know the answer to that or not, I might be able to help on that front as well. I doubt I have any more experience with that particular ritual than you do, but still, wouldn't hurt to try, right?_

 

_I will await your owl._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Mahala Kalisha Kadu_

 

Dumbledore put the letter down thoughtfully. Yes, he had heard of her before. Some of the books about wandless magic that Chandra was using were written by her. She was an African witch of considerable and formidable talent, often called 'the Dumbledore of Africa.' From what he'd heard about her, he thought the comparison was downplaying her abilities. If the rumors were true, she could probably defeat him in battle. It would be a battle to make his duel with Grindelwald look tame by comparison, but still, he doubted he could beat her. Having her help would be invaluable, even if she had no interest in taking on Voldemort directly.

 

Decided, he got out parchment and ink and began to pen a response, inviting her to come to Hogwarts to talk with him. When he was done with that, and sent it, he sat down to write a letter to the Potters, updating them on the Dursley situation, a letter he intended to send with Dobby. After all, aside from the fact they needed to know anyway, they might have some ideas for what to do for the Dursleys. If they were so inclined.

 

~

 

Percy Weasley looked around at his new apartment and sighed. He'd finally moved everything in, it was done; he was committed to this, now. It filled him with a little dread, but also excitement. Dread because he was breaking rules and pretending to be at odds with his family, but excitement because he was working against Voldemort for the Order of the Phoenix. Okay, that gave him some dread, too, even though his role was merely, thus far, spying on the Ministry for the Order. Specifically, Fudge and Umbridge.

 

It was odd how he'd gotten here. There'd once been a time when he'd resented his treatment by the rest of his family that this could have been a genuine split, even if the whole thing was mad. Not long ago, he'd been working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation under Alfonse Alder. Now he was, thanks to an awkward situation and an even more awkward imaginary situation, personal undersecretary to Minister Fudge. He was glad to be away from Alder, to be honest; the man was kind of creepy, especially around women. After witnessing some incidents and hearing some rumors and trading letters with Iliana Potter over the summer, he'd been very tempted to report what he was seeing to Rita Skeeter, but the woman had apparently dropped off the face of the Earth, and he didn't trust the Ministry's new shills that had replaced her.

 

Then, somehow, Alder had gotten wind of his activity. Percy had feared his career was over, but the man made him an offer. He'd been planning to refuse, but needing guidance he talked with Dumbledore about it, and Dumbledore had told him it was an excellent opportunity. After a meeting that had made Percy's head spin, he'd found himself in the Order of the Phoenix, and then taking Alder up on his offer, all because Voldemort was a more serious threat than Alder, whose harm was entirely psychological thus far. Percy _had_ managed to get Dumbledore to promise to do something about Alder as well, thankfully, or he would have refused.

 

Dumbledore's plan was simple: stage a very loud, very public fight in the Ministry with his father over Dumbledore's “lies,” in which Percy defended Fudge and the Ministry and rules, which fit with his personality as most knew it. After all, very few people knew how much Iliana and Adira had helped Percy's home life by intervening with the twins, Ron, and Ginny on his behalf.

 

It had worked, of course. Now everyone thought there was animosity between Percy and his family. And sadly, there was, in a way... not trusting their ability to pretend to be angry with him, his brothers and sisters hadn't been told the split was fake. He just hoped they would believe him later when the truth came out, and forgive him for making them think he'd turned on them.

 

Right now, he wasn't feeling like it was much of a trade, Alder in exchange for Fudge and Umbridge. Umbridge was a horrible human being, he couldn't think of a single redeeming quality to her. Even her loyalty was dark and twisted. He hated being around her. Only years of practice at controlling his expressions and concentrating on doing what it took to dig his way out of his impoverished origins was keeping him from quitting in disgust. Well, that and the thought that if he pulled this off well enough, nobody in the Ministry would ever be the wiser, and he could maintain a high position indefinitely.

 

His unpacking done, it was time to go to work again. He needed the distraction. Grabbing the things he needed for that, he was soon Apparating to work, making his way to his tiny office.

 

Right now, Percy was looking through the documents for the most recent agenda. As he did, he read something he knew Dumbledore would want to know. There wasn't much time, but luckily that had been taken care of; Dumbledore had given him an invisible ring with which he could tap out a message to Dumbledore, or whoever it was Dumbledore had given the other ring to. The point was, he could contact the Order with it. Glancing up and making it look like he was just resting his eyes, Percy checked for anyone watching. He had already checked the room for surveillance spells before setting to work. Seeing nobody, he turned the ring to make it visible, then tapped out a message on it with his wand.

 

There. Now maybe Dumbledore would be able to put a stop to this ridiculous new Educational Decree #22, which would, if passed, give the Ministry the right to assign someone to replace a Hogwarts teacher that had been let go due to illegal activity, the language of which meant they had an excuse to replace Lupin as History of Magic teacher, on the grounds that it was illegal now for a werewolf to work as a teacher. Hopefully Dumbledore could get a replacement before that happened, but given how long it was taking, it didn't seem likely. Binns had been such a horrible teacher that Dumbledore was having to cast the net out to the continent to look for a replacement History of Magic teacher. It had been weeks, and nobody had answered yet. Of course, Percy knew why that was. The Delacours had been there to hear that Voldemort had returned, as had Krum and his family, and so word would have spread across the continent by now. Nobody would want to come to Britain until Voldemort was gone for good.

 

The door opened; Percy hastily made the ring invisible again and pretended to look up from his work with mere curiosity.

 

In a sickly-sweet and ridiculously girlish voice, the old toad-faced toady in her horrible pink cardigan came into the room.

 

“Mister Weasley, are you ready? The Minister will be here shortly.”

 

“Everything is ready, Madam Umbridge,” he said, standing up in a great imitation of his usual excited enthusiasm. “I was just reviewing everything one last time to make sure I hadn't missed any important details.”

 

She smiled at him. “Excellent. It's good to see such enthusiasm and attention to detail in one so young. You'll go far, young Mr. Weasley, mark my words. Just stick with me and I shall make sure that you go far in the decades to come. Now, quickly, before Cornelius—I mean, before the Minister arrives.”

 

Giggling at her fake little slip of the tongue, she bustled out of the room, Percy hot on her heels, fully immersed in his role for the day.

 

 

**Endnotes:** Once more, I can safely say that I've been waiting literal YEARS to reveal the whole “Philosopher's Stone transmuting Voldy's blood and bones to gold” thing. And YAY! Finally it's here! :D

 

Secondly, I've decided that while having electronic copies of books 5 – 7 would be nice, canon compliance is going to be going out the window at this point anyway, so I'm not bothered. (I have e-copies of those books now, I just don't think I'm going to use them much.)

 

Also, yes, Umbridge is a Hufflepuff. I hate it how the villains are almost always Slytherins. As horrible a person as she is, Umbridge showed herself to be fiercely loyal to Fudge for some reason. And who says political climbers have to be Slytherin? After all, Percy is canonically a Griffindor, and he was a social and political climber. So yeah, she's a Hufflepuff here. Besides, a Hufflepuff villain is a fascinating idea to me.

 

Lastly yes, I did decide to run with Iliana's distaste for Alfonse Alder and go the Harvey Weinstein route with him. He'll get his comeuppance. 

 


	2. The Return of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visiting witch from Africa helps bring some things about the Potter collective to light, and the collective's magic returns dramatically. (Among other events.)

“ **The Many Faces Go To War: Chapter 2”**

By = Fayanora

 

**Chapter Two: The Return of Magic**

 

**Notes:** This is the second chapter of the sequel to “The Many Faces of Har---er, Adira Potter.” If you haven't read that series yet, this one isn't going to make much sense.

 

Formatting got messed up yet again, had to remove all italics to prevent the whole thing being in italics. 

 

Also, a reminder for anyone who forgot: the person formerly known as Harry still exists, she's just transgender in this one, her new name is Adira.

 

Text in 'Italics and British quotes' is Parseltongue.

 

Things taken directly from canon will be scarce now, as the plot is massively diverging now.

 

I have different styles for the internal speech of the various Potters, but I don't like risking the usual note messing with the formatting, so if you need a refresher, it's back in chapter one of this fic.

 

J. K. Rowling owns this sandbox, I'm only playing in it.

 

***FAYANORA***

 

Severus Snape swept up to the gargoyle at the headmaster's office and gave the password, 'Jelly babies.' Then he climbed up the turning staircase and knocked on the door. It opened, and Severus stepped inside, immediately freezing up in surprise, briefly; there was someone unexpected in the office with Dumbledore. There were two women there. One he knew, it was Minerva McGonagall. The other he didn't know.

 

The woman he didn't know was short, only about 5' 5'', with skin so dark brown that it probably qualified as truly black. She was so dark that only the light reflecting off the oils in her skin gave her face and bare arms any topography at all; without it, she would have looked almost as though someone had cut a hole in the world; the whites of her irises and her unnaturally yellow eyes would have looked like they were floating in midair. As it was, she looked like she was carved from ebony with glass eyes put in place, except that there was life in those eyes. Her black hair was styled in little knob-like knots Severus thought were called Bantu knots, and her hair actually looked slightly lighter than her skin tone. That may have been a trick of the light, though.

 

“Ah Severus, so glad you could join us.”

 

Severus looked at the two women. “I did not know you were entertaining guests, headmaster. I can come back later when it is more convenient.”

 

“No, that's quite alright. This is Mahala Kalisha Kadu, perhaps you've heard of her?”

 

Severus blinked. “The expert in wandless magic you mentioned?”

 

“That is I,” the woman said. “Though mostly because the art of wandless magic is lost on most of the wizarding world. You must be Severus Snape, the potioneer.”

 

Her voice had a kind of edge to it that Severus liked; it reminded him a little of his own manner of speaking, though the accent was different of course.

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

“I have read your published work,” she said with that same crisp edge to her voice. “You should write more. You're wasting your time being a teacher.”

 

“Tell me something I don't know,” he answered.

 

“Ms. Kadu is here because she is interested in training the Potters,” Minerva said.

 

Severus frowned. Then he mentally chided himself for letting the expression slip through. The Kadu woman caught it, too, which annoyed him even more.

 

“You have something to say about them? Then I wish to hear it. I wish to know all I can about them before I decide whether and how to train them.”

 

He looked to Dumbledore, who nodded, then gave Minerva a quelling look. So Severus answered.

 

“How much do you know about the Potters so far?”

 

“I know all their names. Including Hypatia. Dumbledore was filling me in.”

 

“Alastair Potter and Zoey Potter are bullies,” he said.

 

He paused, but nobody was interrupting him. Dumbledore and McGonagall both looked away from him.

 

“I do not think they mean to be bullies, given the things I have seen in their head, but they have a lot of power that has gotten to their heads. I believe Alastair's reasons for the bullying is he thinks of himself as the group's defender. Zoey, on the other hand, is a prankster whose pranks sometimes go too far, though she may be picking up on Alastair's emotions. Even the one known as Chandra – normally a very calm and gentle soul – has been infected by their poor temper and on occasion has some of their same impulsiveness that he unleashes on others. Their main targets thus far have been young Mr. Malfoy and his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, for no other reason than the boys verbally goad them, or occasionally attempt to hex them. Their behavior towards young Mr. Malfoy is especially ironic, since the one known as Hypatia is friends with him. He has no idea who she really is, of course.”

 

“Who else have they attacked?”

 

“I have heard of some other incidents. They caused a reporter named Rita Skeeter to be stuck to the ceiling of a pub, after she insulted one of their friends. I have also heard of an incident wherein Zoey Potter covered Ronald Weasley with transfigured toy spiders. He is quite afraid of spiders. Her apology involved giving him a trick sweet that covered him with feathers. I do not know why they are still friends.”

 

“Can you tell me about any specific incidents of bullying against the Malfoy boy?”

 

“Yes, I can. The most recent one was, I believe, the time the one known as Chandra Rahasyamay used wandless magic to make Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle be magnetically attracted to Mr. Malfoy. From what I heard, it looked painful. But before that was dealt with, he then caused them to float in the air, and he did not know how to undo either of these things. The headmaster had to undo it. And their punishment for this was to read books about wandless magic.” Severus glared at Dumbledore as he said this. Dumbledore looked away uncomfortably. Minerva was fidgeting with her hat in her lap and looked even more uncomfortable than the headmaster.

 

“That was only the most recent example?”

 

“Yes. There was also the time Alastair Potter put the three boys in a full body bind, Disillusioned them, and left them on the side of the road. The way they were discovered... Hagrid, our gamekeeper, stumbled upon them. Literally. They could have been killed. He is half giant. Shall I go on?”

 

“Please do.”

 

“Good. Let me see... there was a time when Zoey Potter did something to Mr. Malfoy's hair, and took an embarrassing picture of him. Something else I believe she did, but I could never prove, is that once, Mr. Malfoy was found out past curfew; he had apparently been stuck to the ceiling of a hidden alcove. He woke up with no idea where he was, and he got in trouble trying to find his way back.”

 

“Is that all?”

 

“That is all the specific incidents I am aware of, yes. The rest is just trading verbal barbs with the Malfoy boy.”

 

“I see. And what punishment did they get for these offenses?”

 

Severus snorted with derisive laughter. “Punishment? For the glorious famed Potters? Of course not. Not nearly enough, anyway. Dumbledore took over their punishment for the incident where they stuck the three boys together, but Minerva McGonagall was there as well, it should have been her jurisdiction. I find myself puzzled by her under-reaction, to be honest.”

 

“He was new , Severus! Like a child!”

 

“Not at the time of that incident he wasn't! And Alastair was with him for that one. And yet you didn't punish them because Chandra was new? He wasn't so new, I found out later. According to Hypatia, he had existed since their first year here, he merely was hidden for years. And anyway, would you not still punish a toddler for doing something wrong?”

 

She had nothing to say to this.

 

“It is a concerning pattern of behavior,” he said. “Very concerning. Part of the reason I started taking Iliana under my wing was that she seems to be one of the most ethical of them, and one of the more level headed of them. Ironic, given she looks like Lily, who was a hothead. The point is, I was hoping to mold her into being a good influence on the others. But after the Skeeter incident, I may have been taking things too slowly, been too subtle.”

 

“You're absolutely right,” Mahala Kadu said. “Too many people have let them get away with too much, and it seems to be eroding their character. Targeting someone their age who verbally bullies them I could almost understand, but then they moved on to bullying adults, and that is indeed cause for concern. Whether they mean to be bullying or not, they need to be taught to stop it, to let their reason overrule their emotions.

 

“With that in mind, I am going to train them, but I'm not giving them any more weapons until I can be sure they're not going to use those weapons for ill.”

 

“I should probably tell you also,” Severus said, “that they know occlumency now. So I cannot look into their minds for you anymore and be sure of what I see.”

 

She glared at him. “You've been looking into their minds without their consent? Isn't that illegal?”

 

“Not exactly.”

 

“Oh. Right. Because this is wizarding Britain, the backwater third-world nation of the wizarding world.”

 

“If I might interject,” Dumbledore said. “I believe Hypatia to be honest about their internal goings-on, at least with people she trusts. And she seems to trust me.”

 

“I hope you're right. This may be a lot more difficult if you're wrong.”

 

There was a lull in the conversation. Then Severus finally decided to fill it.

 

“This has been diverting, headmaster, and as pleasant as it has been to meet you, Ms. Kadu, I came here to speak privately with the headmaster about an important matter.”

 

“Is this about your Voldemort?”

 

“It might be.”

 

“I've heard he's not doing too well. Something about little bits of Philosopher's Stone turning all the metals in his body into gold. Tell me, has he been experiencing paralysis, seizures, low blood pressure, fainting spells, confusion, or memory loss, on top of his other symptoms?”

 

He looked to Dumbledore. He nodded.

 

“Yes, you are correct Ms. Kadu. How did you know?”

 

“Well... potassium and sodium are also metals, so it was a logical deduction.”

 

“Should Minerva really be here for this, Dumbledore?”

 

“She knows that much. But yes, I believe the rest should be discussed without her.”

 

McGonagall nodded and stood up, her hat still in her hands as she left the room. Dumbledore waited another 30 seconds, then nodded.

 

“Continue, Severus.”

 

“Thank you, headmaster. Yes, the dark lord is doing very poorly. I have had to start using Bellatrix and Crouch Junior to help me keep him alive while I go out for more potions supplies. I have been brewing nonstop for months. And as Ms. Kadu pointed out, he's missing potassium and sodium, so I have needed to give him large doses of those as well. I used some saline solution in an IV, though I had to add potassium and double the salinity to keep up with the effects. Bellatrix and Barty were not pleased at that 'Muggle rubbish,' but it is far faster than the potions at getting such things into the body.

 

“The dark lord is no longer fit of mind enough to make decisions about his own medical care. I have been fighting with Bella and Barty for weeks about whether or not to kill him so he can be revived again. Bellatrix seems to think that doing so will harm the dark lord's soul. I must admit, the concern was alarming. I believe Bellatrix knows that the dark lord has at least one horcrux.”

 

Dumbledore's eyes went briefly wide. “And where did you learn of this, Severus? I do not believe I ever revealed that to you.”

 

Severus snorted. “Give me some credit, headmaster. I may be a master potioneer, but my true passion has always been the dark arts. I learned from the dark lord for several years before defecting, and I have had years to study on my own time. He did not tell me of horcruxes himself, but he taught me enough that I soon found out about them myself. I'm sure Bellatrix knows in a similar way, though obviously she was in Azkaban for many years.”

 

“I see. So you said you were having a hard time convincing Bellatrix to kill him again, in order to revive him again?”

 

“Yes. As I said, she thinks it might harm his soul.”

 

This time the Kadu woman answered. “Not an unreasonable assumption. In fact, she may be right. Given what I've heard of his appearance, I'd say he has at least four horcruxes. One is bad enough, but you get up to four and your soul becomes unstable enough to break apart far more easily, and pieces go flying every which way. And if I'm right, he doesn't have much soul left to spare. I'm honestly surprised he's not a vegetable, to be honest.”

 

“What do you mean by 'he doesn't have much soul left to spare'?” Severus asked.

 

“Well I've studied horcruxes. Vile things, for so many reasons. But when the instructions say 'split your soul,' they mean it literally. Each horcrux splits the body's part of the soul in half. First horcrux, if that gets destroyed, kills half the soul, and the soul pieces aren't connected in any way after that, so getting one horcrux is like losing half your soul even when it's intact. Make a second one, and you're down to one quarter of a soul. Make a third, you've only got twelve and a half percent of your soul. Four would reduce your body down to 6.25% of a soul. At that point, you'd have to have been someone really bloody clever to even be able to form words. So I'm thinking he has two, maybe three horcruxes at most.”

 

“I believe him to have made six intentional horcruxes,” Dumbledore said. “I believe he was fascinated enough by the number 7 to want a seven part soul.”

 

“SIX!” Severus had actually shouted that, clutching his heart. “SIX horcruxes?”

 

Ms. Kadu had gone several shades paler, her eyes huge. Then she seemed to calm down, and frowned at Dumbledore.

 

“That's impossible. Six horcruxes would have him down to 1.56 percent of a soul. Even if he'd been three times smarter than the smartest human in recorded history when his soul was 100%, at 1.56% of a soul he'd have the IQ of a cactus! He might be able to track movement with his eyes, but he'd be a drooling moron otherwise. After all, dementors suck out souls in their entirety, and the only thing those poor bastards can do is breathe on their own.”

 

“His physical appearance matches someone with at least four horcruxes, you said that yourself. How else would you explain that?”

 

“Well yes, the dark magic involved in making horcruxes warps the body, and every time you split your soul that way it warps it further. Snape, do you think his appearance matches someone with that many horcruxes?”

 

“How should I know? To my knowledge, nobody in history has ever had more than two of the cursed things.”

 

“Can't you extrapolate based on known physical descriptions of the damage two horcruxes does?”

 

Severus sat silently, thinking. After several minutes, he nodded.

 

“I suppose... yes. I cannot be sure of course, but the projected damage does seem to fit with more than four horcruxes.”

 

“But how ? How can he have six horcruxes and--- wait, you said 'intentional' horcruxes! What do you mean by that?”

 

Dumbledore sighed. “I believe the Potters to be an accidental horcrux. I believe a piece of his soul broke off when the curse failed, and attached itself to the only other living body in the area at the time.”

 

Severus stood up from his chair, so angry he was actually growling. “And WHEN were you going to tell me this? You realize this means the Potters will have to die for him to die for good?”

 

The old man suddenly looked every single one of his 100+ years, and sad enough for three lifetimes.

 

“Yes, I am aware of that. I have been trying to find an alternative solution, but... I don't know if there is one.”

 

“It might be possible,” Mahala said. “But very difficult, if so. Differentiating one soul from another in the same body? I don't know how that would work.”

 

“Especially as there are likely another seven souls in there along with the one we need to remove,” Severus said, sitting back down again.

 

“Seven--- oh, because of the patronuses. I heard about that. It was in your country's only newspaper. I also heard about the mega-patronus they defended themselves with.”

 

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, it does sound very daunting. Do you have any insights that might help us find a way to destroy the unintentional horcrux without destroying its container?”

 

Mahala snorted at this. “I doubt even Herpo the Foul himself would have a clue how to do that. Horcruxes may or may not be the only application of soul magic, but even if they aren't, they still got the study banned. Even if someone somewhere knew how to do it, the secret would be so well hidden that I doubt we'd find the answer in our lifetimes, even if we lived to be 200.

 

“But enough of that for now,” she continued. “I want to backtrack a little. I still want to know how Voldemort can have six horcruxes – or seven, I suppose – and still be able to walk and talk. His shade should have been rendered so simple that it would have just been sitting there in the rubble, completely unable to think, barely existing at all.”

 

“Ms. Kadu,” Severus asked, a faraway look on his face. “Might it be possible to take a split part of soul and further break it up? A part of the soul not in the body, I mean. If it were, he could still have 50% of his soul in his body, the horcruxes made of percentages of the other half he initially broke off?”

 

She spluttered. “I have no idea. I doubt it. The soul piece has to have an organic body, capable of ma--- wait a moment...”

 

They waited as she thought. Finally, she said, “I wonder...”

 

“Don't keep us in suspense,” Snape quipped.

 

“It's just... well... I mean the most obvious way would be to use the Philosopher's Stone, but... do either of you know how Voldemort made that horrible homunculus body he stayed in until his resurrection?”

 

The two men looked at each other, then back at her, since it had sounded like a rhetorical question.

 

“Right,” she continued. “I do. No offense, Mr. Snape, but I've been studying the dark arts for nearly sixty years--”

 

“You don't look a day over 40,” Dumbledore said.

 

“Flattering, but don't interrupt me again. Anyway, I've been studying the dark arts for almost sixty years, and I do know how he made that horrible homunculus. The first step is to find a newborn human infant. The second step is to remove its soul with dark magic, which mutates its body in the process unless you have access to a dementor. Then the shade has an empty vessel to reside in, but the dark magic renders its lifespan very short. Such a body couldn't last more than a year and a half before it died, and it would never grow in that time.

 

“So my thought is, what if Voldemort split his soul, then turned such a homunculus into a horcrux, solely so it could split itself up into more horcruxes?”

 

“I doubt that Voldemort would do that,” Dumbledore said. “He would not trust his alternate that much. The two would plot against each other. It wouldn't cooperate with its original.”

 

“I disagree, headmaster,” Severus said. “The dark lord is nothing if not pragmatic. If nothing else, he could possibly find some way to control the homunculus, suppressing the free will of the parasitic other half of his soul. He could have studied the effects on its mind as it was further split up.”

 

“Yes, and if he had to be in close proximity to the thing to get it to behave, the dark magic from its horcrux rituals would wash over him and affect his appearance. The only problem would be he'd have to split his own soul at least twice as well, to get seven out of the deal. Though I suppose he could have repeated the homunculus experiment.

 

“So he starts out with half of his soul after his first horcrux,” she continued, “and the other half is forced to split itself in half, meaning he then has two horcruxes with 25% soul. If he didn't care about their intelligence at all, he could then easily have both of them split themselves for four horcruxes at 12.5% soul apiece. Then he could make a fifth horcrux from his own soul shard if he liked the results of the second split enough, and have that one split itself to make the sixth one.”

 

“You are forgetting something important, Ms. Kadu. You are forgetting that Voldemort had not made his sixth horcrux yet when he tried to kill the baby then known as Harry.”

 

“Yes, but he'd be at 25% soul after the fifth one if I'm right, destabilizing his soul enough to split it by accident, so that fact isn't really relevant.”

 

As the room went into a thoughtful silence, Severus was massaging his head. He did this for several minutes before standing up.

 

“We could go on debating this for years, I suspect. But I need to hurry up and get back to the dark lord's side before Bella and Barty get too annoyed with my tardiness. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Kadu. Farewell to both of you for now.”

 

Without waiting for a dismissal, he swept out of the room.

 

~

 

As frustrating as the previous months without magic had been, the last few weeks were easier. With Luna around to distract Iliana, the others retreated into the subconscious to give them privacy, even though it was just cuddles and hand holding. They were still trapped in Al's body, after all, which was the worst part of it for Adira and Iliana. But despite some occasional angst about this, Luna was mostly a positive distraction.

 

Cedric ended up getting a full trial in front of the Wizengamot for using magic in a Muggle area, but since there weren't actually any Muggle witnesses, with Dumbledore's help Cedric got released with a warning not to do it again. There was a lot of celebration about that when the news reached Grimmauld Place.

 

Book lists came a couple weeks before school started, and so Sirius and Remus and Mrs. Weasley took Luna, Iliana, Hermione, and the Weasley kids to Diagon Alley to get their school stuff. Iliana was worried what would happen if getting their school things would jinx them so their magic wouldn't return. Luna tried her best to ease their minds about that.

 

Along with the book lists came some other news. Hermione got a Prefect badge, she was excited about it. Ron was confused why Adira or one of them didn't get a badge, too, but Al pointed out he was one of the few boys in the collective; giving Al a Prefect badge would have been at least as bad an idea as giving one to a young Sirius would have been, and Zoey was a prankster. Tier hardly came out anymore, and giving Chandra a Prefect badge would be right up there with giving one to Luna. So they weren't terribly surprised or disappointed to not get it.

 

Besides which, they got a consolation prize, as Iliana was made Quidditch captain. She freaked out about this somewhat, because she hadn't practiced all summer long. Also, they were all still worried that their magic would never return.

 

Hypatia and Iliana had gotten as far on their projects as they could without magic. Iliana still hadn't been able to speak with Professor Snape, so they just had to keep waiting, as they'd done all summer long.

 

Then came the 16  th  of August, and the waiting was over.

 

“AAAAAAAAAA!!!!” came the shrill scream from the Potter bedroom. Sirius, Remus, and Mrs. Weasley came running into the room as the scream suddenly stopped.

 

The sight before them was Adira, covered in a heavy sheen of sweat, passed out on the floor and pale as death. Remus ran forward and checked her pulse.

 

“Still alive. Strong pulse. Heart seems to be beating a bit too fast for someone who's passed out.”

 

“She changed,” Sirius noted. “That means they got their magic back, right?”

 

“I would presume so,” Remus said as he checked her with diagnostic charms.

 

“Should she go to St. Mungo's?” Mrs. Weasley asked anxiously.

 

“I don't know yet. Wait...”

 

“Yes?” came the question from both Mrs. Weasley and Sirius.

 

“She's not passed out after all. She's conscious. Just not responsive.”

 

“That sounds familiar,” Sirius said. “Like the night their names came out of the goblet.”

 

“That might be it, Padfoot. If so, I think what happened is they got their powers back all in one go, and it overwhelmed them. Empathic power as potent as theirs returning suddenly after months of being gone? I think that would do it. It would explain the scream, as well.”

 

Luna stepped forward. The adults hadn't noticed her coming in, but she was nodding as though she'd heard enough to know what had happened. She knelt down by Adira's prone form and took her by the hand.

 

“Adira? Iliana? Are you in there?”

 

Adira whimpered, jerking her hand out of Luna's and covering her eyes with it to block out the lights from the candles Mrs. Weasley had lit. Seeing this, Sirius put out all but one of the candles; the one he left on was behind her, so the light wasn't shining in her face.

 

Adira was curled up in the fetal position now, freeing her hands by pulling a blanket off the bed and over her head. She was shaking uncontrollably, and started muttering something that was further muffled by the blanket.

 

By now, the other kids had joined the audience, and one of the twins took out an Extendable Ear while his mother's back was turned and maneuvered it over to listen in on what Adira was muttering.

 

“Green bolt, alien presence, its claws dug in,” she was saying, over and over again. Fred tapped Sirius on the shoulder and handed him the listening end of the Extendable Ear. Sirius listened to it with a frown on his face.

 

“I really think we should take her to St. Mungo's,” said Remus. “From what Dumbledore and Sirius told me, when Chandra was experiencing this sort of thing, he got better a few minutes afterward. It's been over ten minutes, and she's showing no sign of improvement.”

 

Sirius hadn't been paying attention to Remus; he was still listening to Adira's muttering. He looked up now and told the room, “She was muttering 'Green bolt, alien presence, its claws dug in.' But now she's just saying a bunch of things that don't make any sense.”

 

Fred took the Extendable Ear back and listened. George rolled out another one so Sirius could continue to listen, too. It sounded like disconnected sentences, each different in tone enough to indicate that they were clearly not meant to be connected.

 

“ The yellow-eyed one will show the way, her skin as black--- What I've made is a weaponized potion, I call it the--- I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking! He just made me so angry! The amphibian wanes in influence, but her wrath will--- The only good Death Eater is a d-d-d-daaaaauuuhhh...”

 

Adira went limp and stopped shaking as she trailed off. Remus checked her vitals again, but she'd just passed out.

 

“I'm not sure,” Sirius said, “but I think she was giving partial prophecies. One was something about a yellow-eyed person with black skin 'will show the way.' And the other was something about the amphibian's influence waning, but then that part said something about 'her wrath will.'”

 

“Will what?”

 

“No idea. It cut off there and became something else, something about 'the only good Death Eater is a' something starting with D. But that part sounded like someone just talking, not like a prophecy.”

 

Sirius used his wand to summon parchment, quill, and ink so he could start writing down what he'd heard.

 

Remus and Mrs. Weasley were still dithering on the question of St. Mungo's a couple minutes later when Adira woke up, uncovering her head and looking around herself. She looked up at Luna blearily. Nobody but Luna had noticed her waking up until she spoke.

 

“What happened? Where am I? Why is everything blurry?”

 

Luna smiled at her. “Hello, Adira. We're not sure what happened, but Mr. Lupin thinks your magic came back, and the empathic noise overwhelmed you. You're in your bedroom. Everything is blurry because you don't have your glasses on.”

 

Remus handed Luna Adira's glasses, and Luna put them on Adira's face for her.

 

“Better?”

 

“Yes,” she said, looking up at Remus this time.

 

“Adira, your eyes!”

 

“What's wrong?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

 

“They're hazel.”

 

Adira cocked her head. Then she said, “That's nice. What's the relevance?”

 

“Well, normally they're green,” Sirius said in concern.

 

She turned to look at him. “I see. Well that is unusual. Any chance they're colored contact lenses?”

 

Now everyone was looking uncomfortable.

 

“Adira,” Hermione said cautiously, “what do you remember?”

 

Adira frowned in thought. Then the frown deepened. “Is my name really Adira? I thought it was... um...”

 

She looked down at her hands and jerked in surprise. “Why am I white?”

 

Remus and Sirius looked at one another, a silent question in their eyes.

 

Adira reached up to push her glasses further up her nose, and suddenly the metal lenses turned to gold.

 

“What the?”

 

Sirius looked like he was close to panicking. “Adira, whatever you do, don't touch anything else!”

 

“Who's Adira?” Adira asked. “I'm Megan. Megan Chandra Potter. Wait, no... that doesn't sound right.”

 

“I'm going to go tell the headmaster what's happening,” Remus said, rushing from the room.

 

“Aha!” Adira said. “I'm Alastair Lily Potter. Yes, that's who I am.”

 

Suddenly, her eyes turned blue, then green, then one blue and one green, one blue and one hazel, then she passed out again.

 

“What's going on?” Hermione asked. She was wringing her hands.

 

The other kids looked scared and confused as well. Well, everyone in the room was looking like that. Even Luna's normally calm demeanor was faltering.

 

Adira shifted then to Zoey's form, then to Al's, Chandra's, Iliana's, and Hypatia's form before switching one last time to Adira's form. She sat bolt upright, her body rigid, her eyes a bright amber.

 

“Rebooting,” said a voice that was only familiar to Sirius; it was Hypatia's voice. Luna knew of Hypatia, of course, but hadn't met her yet, and neither had Remus.

 

She sat that way for a whole minute, everyone talking in a panic about what was going on. After the minute was over, she said “Memories intact and uncorrupted,” then her eyes went back to green, and her rigid posture relaxed.

 

“Well that was a trip,” Adira said. “I don't remember much about it, but enough to know it was weird. Anyway, it's me, Adira Lily Potter. Hy-- er...”

 

[Don't you dare tell all these people about me! The brainiac and the brash idiot you call your close friends, maybe. But I don't really trust the twins.]

 

“What was that all about, mate?” Ron asked nervously.

 

“Um... It seems that getting our powers back threw the whole system into chaos, blending personalities and memories in weird ways. But er, Mother repaired the damage. We're fine now.”

 

It wasn't quite true; Al and Zoey weren't responsive, but that was because they had apparently had some kind of traumatic experience during the memory overlap. Even Chandra was quiet and thoughtful in a different way than normal for him. But she didn't want to worry anyone.

 

Since it was morning now, Adira stood up. “I won't be able to sleep now. I'm hungry. That experience took a lot out of me.”

 

“Oh yes, of course dear. I'll go whip you up something,” Mrs. Weasley said, bustling down to the kitchen.

 

Adira followed her down, as did everyone else. Adira gave Hermione and Ron significant looks; she was going to tell them about Hypatia so they wouldn't worry.

 

Luna slipped her hand into Adira's hand and asked her how Iliana was.

 

“A little freaked out, but glad to be a girl again. Still, I was here first, so she's letting me have the body for a while. Don't worry, I'll let you two spend some time together later.”

 

“Okay, Adira,” she said, smiling.

 

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Sirius's mum started her screaming. As Sirius ran off to answer the door, Adira's eyes changed to amber and she whipped her wand out, casting spells at the portrait to Hermione's dismay, but Adira knew how the Trace worked and knew she could use magic in this house without it being a problem. Anyway, it was Hypatia who was in control at the moment.

 

The first thing she cast was a spell over her own ears to make herself temporarily deaf. Then after five minutes of diagnostic spells and another five of spells to crack part of the picture's security, she cast a gag into the portrait's horrible mouth, and tied it up so it couldn't move.

 

“Thanks, Addy,” Sirius said when he and Tonks came down the hall to find that Mrs. Black was bound and gagged. Sirius paused to glare backwards toward the door.

 

“Uh huh,” came their reply, as they were still deeply involved in figuring out how to get rid of the portrait.

 

Sirius and Tonks went on ahead into the kitchen, leaving her there to her work. A moment later, Professor Snape walked past her.

 

She paused her work. “Professor Snape?”

 

He paused to look at her.

 

“Your eyes are amber,” he noted emotionlessly.

 

She looked around a moment before answering. “It's me, Hypatia. Thanks for letting me know about the eyes.” Her eyes turned green again. “I just wanted to tell you that Iliana wants to talk with you later, once we're done with this portrait. Sir.”

 

“I see. I hope it will be short. I am rather busy, as I'm sure you know.”

 

“Has No-Nose died yet? Sir.”

 

Snape stiffened. “Take care what you say and where you say it,” he replied in a hissed whisper.

 

“I don't think anyone is going to figure out anything from that, sir. Besides which, one of the spells I cast before starting this project was a privacy bubble. You're currently at the farthest range of being able to hear anything inside it. And before you ask, yes I know how to keep away those Extendable Ears of the twins, that's been included. Just remember Iliana wants to ask you something before you go. Should take five minutes at the most.”

 

With that, she went back to her work without waiting for a response. Snape sniffed at her and swept toward the kitchen.

 

A half an hour later, the people in the kitchen heard a heavy thump from the entrance hall. A moment later Adira finally walked in carrying the horrible portrait of Sirius's mum and showed it to them before giving it to Sirius for him to stow in the attic. With that done, she sat down and started to eat.

 

“So where's Professor Snape at?” Adira asked between bites.

 

Hermione answered her. “He and Tonks went into the drawing room. We've seen some other people filtering through, as well.”

 

“Good,” she said before switching to a whisper. “Anyway, I have something to tell you two later, about what happened earlier. I'll tell you once Iliana gets to ask Snape something.”

 

Her friends nodded, and Adira went back to eating.

 

“So you got rid of Sirius's mum, I noticed,” Fred said. Now that they had their powers back, Adira could tell Fred and George apart again by their empathic signature.

 

Adira rolled her eyes. “I should hope so, since I brought her in here to show you all.”

 

“We were just wondering how you did it,” George said.

 

“Well, we've had two months of no magic and plenty of boredom and frustration within which to figure out things like that. Some arithmancy, some research of spells, and boom, there we are.”

 

“Those diagnostic spells, though... pretty advanced stuff. When did you practice those spells?”

 

“Didn't. That was the first time we'd done most of those spells. That's part of why it took so long, we weren't always doing it right.”

 

Fred mouthed the words 'so long?' with an incredulous look. George, his eyes wide, said, “'So long?' We've had dozens of adult witches and wizards come through here during the summer, and not one of them made any progress in shutting her up, and in less than an hour you not only shut her up, you got her off the wall!”

 

“Yeah, and you had her shut up in like, 20 minutes or less,” Fred said.

 

“Like I said, we've had months to work out what to do. But of course, we didn't know everything. We could've gotten her off the wall faster if we'd known there were blood runes on the back of her canvas. It's a bit difficult to deactivate blood runes to begin with, much less ones that are on the back of a painting and protected by loads of Dark spells. But yeah, I guess now you mention it, being able to crack that in half an hour was pretty incredible.”

 

“What's a blood rune?” Ron asked.

 

“Don't you dare tell him,” Mrs. Weasley said. “I don't even know how you know what they are, Adira. Children shouldn't know about those things.”

 

“Our attitude is that when you've got an insane dark wizard coming after your blood, it's a good thing to know as much magic as possible, even Dark magic. Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley, we're not going to go around killing people or enslaving people or anything like that, but it's a 'know your enemy' kind of situation. Dumbledore does the same thing, more or less. Also, I'm 15. Just two years away from being an adult in the wizarding world.”

 

“Still a child.”

 

“Teenagers are neither children nor adults,” Adira replied. “Teenagers are teenagers. Adolescents.”

 

At that moment, Adira paused and looked thoughtful. “Sorry, Mrs. Weasley, still feeling a little weird and mixed up, after what happened this morning.”

 

“Apology accepted, dear. But I still don't want you telling any of your friends about any Dark Arts.”

 

Hypatia grabbed Adira's body and sighed. “Blood runes are one of those things that shouldn't really be considered Dark, they're just regular runes done in the individual's blood instead of ink, done to strengthen the rune with the magic of the mage's blood. But of course the Ministry is like 'Ew, blood, how icky! Everything icky is Dark!'”

 

Mrs. Weasley glared at Adira, who was now back in control of her body. She stared down at her plate, embarrassed and frustrated that she couldn't explain. Not right now, anyway.

 

When breakfast was over, Adira convinced Mrs. Weasley to join her in one of the other rooms to talk. After casting some privacy charms, she told Mrs. Weasley about Hypatia, and about how Dumbledore and Snape knew her interest in Dark Arts and were helping her, and why.

 

“I see. So this Hypatia gets to get away with learning illegal Dark Magic because Dumbledore doesn't want to punish the rest of you for being unable to control her?”

 

“Well, there's more to it than that. Um... there's some Dark Magic that Moldywart um, kind of used on us, that we need to undo. Nothing life threatening, and nothing we haven't already worked out how to live with, but we could save a lot of energy and vigilance by working out how to get rid of it.”

 

“I don't suppose you can tell me what it is?”

 

“No. Sorry. Dumbledore didn't even want to tell us, and he didn't, not really. We figured it out ourselves, and he confirmed it. It's something that's not widely known about, it could be bad if Moldywart knew we knew. Anyway, we've got supervision from Professor Snape. And we're only learning it to fight Moldywart.”

 

“I wish you wouldn't call him that, dear.”

 

“He wants us dead. As far as we can tell, taunting him with that name isn't going to make things any worse for us. It's not like we're calling him on the telephone to call him names.”

 

“I still don't like it. Any of it. I don't understand how Albus can be letting you do Dark Magic.”

 

“Not all rituals are Dark. In fact, we used a small Light ritual to help deal with the blood rune. And some rituals are neutral, neither Light nor Dark.”

 

“But you're still learning Dark Magic.”

 

“Know thy enemy,” she repeated. “Even Dumbledore has been studying Dark Magic for the last few years, maybe longer, to try to fight him.”

 

“Yes, dear, but that's Dumbledore, an adult. He knows what he's doing.”

 

“Hypatia knows her limits. She's cautious. And Snape is helping.”

 

“But you're so young.”

 

Her eyes turned amber and Hypatia glared at Mrs. Weasley. “'Young and innocent,' you mean?”

 

“Well, yes. Um... Hypatia?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Ah, okay.”

 

“Anyway, the Dursleys stole our innocence. We don't know what it is, we don't remember having it. Even Zoey isn't really innocent. We're going to do what it takes to survive. Don't worry about me, Mrs. Weasley. I'm cautious, and I'm a moral person. Probably more so than Al and Zoey, even. Wait, no 'probably' about it. Zoey thinks she's cute and funny even when she's being mean, and Al goes too far in the name of defending us. I know why they do it. Having lived with the Dursleys, they don't have a clear idea where the boundaries are. But this morning's incident may change that. The two of them saw some things in our combined memories that upset them, and might change their ways.”

 

“Oh,” Mrs. Weasley said. She didn't seem to know quite what else to say.

 

“We also had a vision of a conversation among several adults, including one person we didn't recognize. It was eye-opening.”

 

Mrs. Weasley sighed. “Well I don't like it, but I guess if Dumbledore trusts you enough to let you do it at all... I guess I'll try to trust you, too. Just... promise me you won't teach any Dark Arts to your friends?”

 

“I won't. Hermione wouldn't want to know any, and I don't trust Ron near as much as Adira does, especially not with this kind of thing. He also doesn't like Dark Magic. And I trust Ron a lot more than I trust the twins.

 

“Anyway, Mrs. Weasley, Iliana needs to find Professor Snape before he leaves.”

 

Mrs. Weasley let her go with a concerned look on her face, and Hypatia let Iliana take control of the body, which turned their eyes hazel. Hypatia didn't know where this new thing of their eyes changing color came from, but as long as she remembered to suppress it when she needed to, she thought it was a useful new thing to start happening. It cut down on the guessing and the confusion in people's faces.

 

Iliana soon found Professor Snape coming out of the drawing room. She also caught the twins looking disappointed, Extendable Ears being put away.

 

“Professor Snape?”

 

He looked down his hooked nose at her in annoyance.

 

“What do you want, Miss Potter?”

 

“It's Iliana. Um, I had a potion I've been working on designing over the summer, and I'd like to know if I can brew it somewhere. Like a potions lab? Also, I wanted you to look over the recipe first to make sure I didn't mess up anything.”

 

Snape took her arm and pulled her gently into the drawing room, which was now empty. He closed the door and put up privacy wards.

 

“I am rather busy, Miss Potter. I finally managed to get Bellatrix LeStrange and Crouch Junior to agree to euthanize the Dark Lord and start over again. I'm supposedly out getting ingredients for the potion to make a new... homunculus body for him.”

 

“You're bringing him back again?”

 

“Yes. It buys us time. Only a month or two before he'll be strong enough to make another new body, I'm afraid, but he's been getting more of his old Death Eaters active again, so there's really no way to leave him as a wraith and cover the whole thing up again. So a new body he will have to have. And without your blood, he will have to kill you with objects, conjured or otherwise; he will not be able to use the Killing Curse against you without it rebounding again.”

 

“Oh. Well that's good.”

 

“Not as much as you might think. There are potions that can mimic the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. He wants to use some of them on you. He figures if you are tortured to insanity, you will no longer be a threat.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Snape nodded once.

 

“Anyway, Miss Potter, since you are already taking up my time, I suppose I might as well take a look at this recipe of yours.”

 

“Right. It's in my room.”

 

He took down the privacy spells and she went up to get the recipe and return. He jerked the parchment out of her hand and read it thoroughly. His eyebrows went up slightly as he did.

 

Handing it back to her, he said, “Excellent work, Miss Potter. Only one suggestion: reduce the amount of syrup of Arnica by exactly half. The amount you have written here would be lethal for most people.”

 

“Oh, right. Thanks,” she said, writing that down.

 

“You are welcome. As to brewing it... wait until you are in school again, then ask me again. I believe the potions lab in this house is still in dire need of cleaning out.”

 

“This house has a potions lab?”

 

He sneered at her. “Of course it does, silly girl. All the houses of wealthy pureblood families have at least one potions lab. Sometimes more than one, depending on the size of the house. Anyway, it is not just a matter of available space, but also one of supervision. As remarkable and talented as two of your number may be, there are at least two others I do not trust. Also, you are still a minor.”

 

“Right. We'll wait until we can have your supervision,” she said.

 

“See that you do,” he said, and swept off in dramatic fashion as usual.

 

**I swear he took lessons on how to move dramatically from a vampire,** Alastair thought-spoke to her.

 

“Oh hush, you,” she whispered. “You're part of the reason we couldn't brew this potion here!”

 

**One reason out of four or five reasons,** he rebutted. She ignored him.

 

 

 

 

**Endnote:** Sorry this is so long coming. Between having two fanfic series to work on, being too poor to go out to a cafe to write so I can concentrate better, depression related issues, and writing an original fiction series that I'm absolutely loving and hope to get published when it's finished (a series tentatively called the Ravenstone series), writing in these fanfics is a bit slow. But since this fic and my Autistic Potter fic inspired my Ravenstone stuff, and the three keep cross-pollinating each other, I'm still attempting to keep writing them.

 


	3. Willow Pond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Potter collective returns to school. Hagrid is missing and there's an unexpected new teacher.

“The Many Faces Go To War: Chapter 3” By = Fayanora Chapter Three: Willow Pond

Notes: Okay, so I forgot the collective already knew History had a new teacher, and I forgot Binns was gone already, from Remus having been the teacher for that one the year before. I really need a beta to keep my poor memory in check. Anyway, I have now edited this chapter. If you read it before, you may want to reread it. Or not. Your decision.

I have decided to slightly change the styles for the internal speech of the various Potters, because the previous note about the styles was messing with the formatting. From now on, 'Single quotes with no italics' will be Adira/Addy, ~Text in tildes~ will be Chandra, [Brackets will be Hypatia], # Pound signs for Mother/Avani #, and as to the rest, probably either single quotes or something like that.

Sorry for the long wait. I was ill for two or three weeks with a head cold that refused to give up without a protracted fight.

This is the second chapter of the sequel to “The Many Faces of Har---er, Adira Potter.” If you haven't read that series yet, this one isn't going to make much sense. 

Also, a reminder for anyone who forgot: the person formerly known as Harry still exists, she's just transgender in this one, her new name is Adira, nicknamed “Addy.”

Text in 'Italics and British quotes' is Parseltongue.

Things taken directly from canon will be scarce now, as the plot is massively diverging now.

J. K. Rowling owns this sandbox, I'm only playing in it.

 

*FAYANORA*

When she was done speaking with Snape, Addy invited Ron and Hermione up to her room to tell them about Hypatia.

Ron and Hermione sat on her bed as she paced back and forth, working up the nerve.

“What's wrong?” Hermione asked.

Addy paused and turned to them. “I've got something to tell you two, that I've only just now gotten permission to tell you.”

“We're listening.”

“I've... sort of been lying to you two since not long after Iliana's first date with Luna. Ron, Hermione, do you remember us talking with you about our suspicions about a secret, sleepwalking member of our collective?”

They both nodded, but remained silent.

“Well... I told you around Easter we'd been mistaken. But uh... the truth is, there was another person in our collective, sneaking around at night.”

“What?!” said Ron. “Why didn't you tell us?”

“Because she didn't want anyone to know about her. It's... her reasons are complicated but sound.”

“So it's another girl?” Ron said. “That makes... let's see... Zoey, Iliana, you, Mother, and now this new one, so five? Five girls out of... eight people?”

“Yes.”

“So what's her name, this new one, and why is she a secret?”

“Well... for one, she isn't new. She's been with us the whole time, but the rest of us only became aware of her recently. Avani – Mother, that is – knew, of course, but couldn't say anything. Anyway... her name is Hypatia.”

Addy told them both the whole story, pausing in a couple places to drink some warm, honey-sweetened tea to soothe her throat.

“Wow,” Ron said, when she was finally done. “That's... wow.”

[This one's a real brain trust,] Hypatia snarked in Addy's head.

'Hush, you,' Addy thought back at her.

“So she's still to remain a secret, then? Because of Malfoy?” Hermione asked.

Ron frowned. “I can't believe one of you is friends with that git.”

“Yeah, Al's not happy about it either. But there's not much he can do about it.”

“What about you? What do you think about it?”

She shrugged. “I'd rather it wasn't happening. But at the same time... she might get him on our side. Or at least stop him from being really horrible. But, uh... we're going to have to leave him alone from now on. I mean, don't attack him without provocation, and don't escalate. It's hard to recognize bullying when you're the one doing it, sometimes. Apparently.”

“Bullying?”

Hugging herself, Addy said, “Yeah. We saw some things in a vision...” A thought struck her, and she asked, “Ron? When Zoey was frightening you with those fake spiders, why didn't you... I mean, I'd have thought you'd have been angrier than that. Especially with her half-arsed apology.”

“What? Oh, that. Um... dunno. I mean, she's a kid, right? And anyway, I've put up with worse from Fred and George.”

“She's childlike, and takes the form of a little kid, but she's not actually a child,” Addy said. “Couldn't be, could she, with our collective memory? She knows everything the rest of us know. Well, mostly.”

“Oh. I guess I hadn't thought of that. So are you saying I should be angry with her?”

“I dunno. I mean, it's not like she was trying to be mean on purpose. She doesn't always seem to know where the line is, so she crosses it unintentionally sometimes. Or doesn't think ahead about how others might react, or both. Al's the same way with Malfoy and his bookends.”

Addy's eyes turned one blue and one hazel, and tears welled up in them. “I'm sorry I did that with the spiders and then the canary cream thingy,” Zoey said with Addy's voice. “That was wrong of me. I won't do it again. I'll try to think before I act more. You could've decided to hate me for doing that, and that makes me sad. I don't want to risk you hating me!”

She burst into tears and hugged Ron, who looked startled and then awkward, patting her shoulder awkwardly. Mid-pat, she shifted, without glowing, to her own form.

“There there,” he said. “It's fine, I forgive you.”

“What did you and Al see in your vision that's made you like this?” Hermione asked.

When she'd stopped crying and wiped her eyes, she said, “Some adults talking. Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and some black woman we didn't recognize. Snape was telling them all about times we've done stuff that was bullying, and he was right. It was eye opening. We don't wanna be like that anymore. We need to apologize to Malfoy, his bodyguards, and Rita Skeeter, too.”

The two of them spoke at the same time. “Rita Skeeter?” - “Malfoy?”

“Yes. Rita, because we pinned her to the ceiling. She could have pressed charges for assault, and didn't for some reason. Malfoy because we went too far with him, so many times. Then that stuff I did in first year with his hair and the photos I took of it. I need to track those photos down and give them to him to destroy. Oh, and that time I got him in trouble for being out after curfew. I hid him somewhere he didn't know where he was, that musta been really scary, and I didn't even consider that. I don't want Malfoy to end up like Snape, bitter and mean cuz he was bullied.”

Ron snorted. “I'd say it's a bit late for that. Dunno about 'bitter,' but he's been mean since long before he even met you lot.”

She shrugged. “Still gotta try. I don't wanna be like Dudley.” She shuddered at the thought.

[Good. Go through with it, all of you, and show you can all keep from doing it again, and I'll reconsider wanting to be associated with you lot,] Hypatia told her.

She nodded in response, her gaze and her thoughts far away.

Finally, she stood up and said, “I'm gonna take a nap I think.”

~

The rest of their time at Order headquarters before school was uneventful, mostly Iliana and Luna spending time cuddling and/or talking with each other, since she couldn't practice Quidditch.

~

While getting ready on the morning they would be going to school, Addy helped the twins with the trunks, putting a Featherlight charm on them before the twins made them fly down the stairs. It was a good thing she was helping, too, because one of the trunks hit Ginny. Feather-light as they were, this didn't do more than slightly annoy Ginny, but Mrs. Weasley was shouting at the twins about it.

“COULD HAVE DONE HER A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS!”

Hermione came hurrying into the room looking flustered, just as Adira was putting on her shoes. Hedwig was swaying on her shoulder, and she was carrying a squirming Crookshanks in her arms. The owl fluttered obligingly over and perched on top of her cage. 

“Are you ready yet?”

“Nearly,” Addy said. “We just have to wait for Mrs. Weasley to calm down.”

“Not just that,” Hermione said. “Now Mad-Eye's complaining that we can't leave unless Sturgis Podmore's here, otherwise the guard will be one short.”

“Well that's easily dealt with,” Addy said.

“How?”

“Since we got our powers back, something we saw in that vision made us realize something important. We've been practising because of it, and now... watch.”

Addy dropped in height by over a head, turned blond with blue eyes, and her entire face changed shape, becoming rounder and more youthful. She was completely unrecognisable, and looked like a first-year girl. A moment of concentration, and her robes shrunk to fit her.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Addy said, even her voice sounding like that of an 11 year old girl.

“How are you doing that?”

“Well as it turns out, our magic isn't unique at all. This body is a metamorphmagus with a bit of natural transfiguration ability thrown in for good measure.”

The twins came into the room then and, seeing Addy, leaped back with their wands out.

“Intruder! Who are you?”

“It's me, Adira,” she said in her own voice this time.

“Woah... is this someone new to the collective?” asked one of the twins.

“No, Fred. I just figured out I can metamorph, is all. Like Tonks, you know. Seems that's what lets us transform, it just manifested weirdly because of being a multiple. So weirdly the so-called experts were flummoxed.”

“Someone say my name?” Tonks said, coming into the room.

Hermione and Addy explained once again about Addy being a metamorph. In response, Tonks said, “Cool!” and changed herself to match Addy in all but hair color and face shape, being a brunette instead.

“Now we're just two firsties, two little friends! What's your alias? I'm gonna be Hyacinth Jones.”

“Cool! I'll be Willow Pond, then. We can say we both grew up in a suburb of London together. You're a wizard-raised halfblood, and I'm a Muggleborn. We've been friends since kindergarten.”

'Hyacinth' grinned at her, and they saw she was missing a tooth. “You're good at this, Willow!”

“Hold on a moment,” Addy said. A beat or two later, she had a mole on one side of her neck and one ear was slightly larger than the other.

Then they had to explain what they were doing all over again to Mrs. Weasley and Mad-Eye Moody.

“Ha!” Moody barked, grinning. “Excellent. I almost want something to happen now, just so I can see the look on some Death Eater's face when two first-years start hexing him into a lump. I'm going to have to write this one down in the Auror handbook. Nobody ever pays enough attention to children; they'd never expect an Auror to be disguised as a child. Good on you, lasses.”

Before leaving, Moody cast glamours on Mrs. Weasley to make her look like she was related to 'Hyacinth.' He also changed the sound of her voice. The new plan, which he made up on the spot, was to send the others ahead and for some of this advance guard to break off like they weren't really with the group at all, to casually hide around the crowds to watch for trouble while Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, and Addy would come in from the Floo like they were just regular people. To do this, Mrs. Weasley would side-along Apparate with them into the Leaky Cauldron and use the public Floo there. But first, the others would Floo in from the Burrow. Moody provided them with several Portkeys to do this, which he could only do because they were under a Fidelius. Using a Portkey wasn't easily detectable, but making one would normally set off a great many Ministry alarms.

Completing the plan, they decided that if anyone asked how Addy was getting to school, they were to say that Addy had already Flooed ahead to Dumbledore's office by special permission.

“Why couldn't she just do that?” Hermione asked.

“Dumbledore doesn't want us using the Floo between here and anywhere else except by emergency, since the Ministry will be watching the Floo network, and Riddle will have some of his lickspittles in the Ministry,” Moody said. “By the way, kids, if you ever find you need to Floo over here, the Floo address is 'The Doghouse,' so you don't go giving away the location by accident. But again, only Floo here in an emergency. Also, don't bring anyone along who isn't already in on the secret, the wards are set to body-bind and Incarcerous anyone whose name isn't in the ward book.”

“It also makes an almighty racket,” Sirius said. “Good thing the noisy portraits are all dealt with. Anyway, this is Order headquarters, Dumbledore would prefer you not come here unauthorized.”

“It's fine,” Addy said. “Sirius will be at school. This house will largely be empty, from what I understand.”

“We need to hurry or we'll be late!” Mrs. Weasley said.

“Right,” Moody said. He sent messenger Patronuses ahead to the others because it was faster for him than his slow stumping about.

While they waited for the others to finish getting their new orders, Sirius said, “Nippy!”

A young-looking house elf appeared before them and bowed. “Yes, master Sirius sir? What can Nippy be helping with?”

“Take all these trunks ahead to the Hogwarts Express, will you please?”

“Of course, master Sirius sir,” Nippy said. She and the trunks immediately disappeared with a pop.

“You have a house elf now?” Addy asked.

“Yes. The house actually came with one, his name is Kreacher, but he and I hate each other very much. So as soon as Dumbledore wanted this place for the Order, I ordered Kreacher to another property and got Nippy to replace him. Good riddance, too; Kreacher was worse than useless. This place was so horribly filthy because of him that calling it a pigsty would have been the understatement of the century. Horrible old monstrosity never did a lick of work around here, just pined over my mother's old portrait. I had to ward against him, too, or he'd just come back anyway, orders or no orders.”

“Wouldn't the Fidelius keep him away?”

“Yeah, it does. But it's always better to be safe than sorry. Not sure how well the Fidelius works against house elves after all, and this did used to be his home.”

“Why didn't you free him?” Hermione asked.

“Because the shock would probably kill him. And anyway, better to have him under my control, since he hates me as much as Dobby hates the Malfoys, though for different reasons. He can't stab me in the back if I've ordered him not to.”

“You hope,” Addy added.

Anything else that might have been said was cut off then, for the advance guard was in place and it was time for Hermione, Ron, the twins, Luna, and Ginny to be escorted through by Sirius and Moody. A few more minutes after that, and Mrs. Weasley had Tonks and Addy side-along Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. Adira was pleased that nobody recognized her (her hair was covering the scar that never went away, and a sticking charm kept it there) as they walked from the Apparition point to the Floo.

To keep up appearances, Addy and Tonks chatted about Hogwarts as though they were excited firsties, as their disguises said they were. It was made easier by letting Zoey take the reins without changing their form.

Mrs. Weasley was in a glamour disguise that made her appear ten years younger, 20 pounds lighter, and gave her the same shade of brown hair that Tonks was currently sporting. Her voice was different as well, thanks to a Voice Altering Charm.

Grabbing a pinch of Floo powder, she tossed it in and had Tonks go through first. “King's Cross Station!” Tonks said, disappearing into the flames.

Addy was next, and she ended up running right into Tonks, knocking them both over.

“Oops,” Tonks said. “Guess my clumsiness is rubbing off on you.”

“The Floo hates me. Magical transportation in general hates me,” Addy said.

They moved out of the way just in time for Mrs. Weasley to pop in from the Floo. She wasted no time getting them within sight of Sirius and Moody, who were acting oddly in a way Addy couldn't figure out at first. She watched them for several minutes as the crowd milled around; the train hadn't even started boarding yet, most students were talking on the platform. This made Tonks and Addy two of the few people getting onto the train.

She kept watching Sirius and Moody out the window until she finally figured out what they were doing. They were somehow making it seem like Addy was under the invisibility cloak and trying to get through the crowd without bumping into anyone. Clever, that.

When Hermione, Ron, and Luna arrived in their compartment, Hermione used her wand to tint the windows black so Adira could change back to her usual self. Tonks changed to look Addy's age, but a boy, and stayed in the compartment.

“Who are you now?” Addy asked.

In a flawless American accent Tonks said, “American student visiting Hogwarts, in case I want to switch to a Hogwarts education. Call me Jacob Jackson.”

“And how are you explaining your presence in our compartment?”

“You and me are distant cousins, of course. It's not even a lie, so that's the brilliance of it!”

Addy shrugged. “Okay.”

“Anyway, Addy,” Hermione said, “as I'm a prefect, I have to go into the prefect carriage to start my duties.”

“Okay, drop in on us later if you have time,” she said.

“Will do,” she said as she left.

Luna sat next to Adira, who looked at her and then switched over to Iliana. Luna leaned her head on Iliana's shoulder. Ron sat across from the two of them and got out a book about the Chudley Cannons to read.

Before long, Neville popped into the compartment to say hi.

“Hi guys! I'm a prefect now! Gran is really proud of me!”

“Congratulations, Neville!”

“Thanks. But I really don't know how it happened, to be honest.”

“Well... Of the boys in our year in Griffindor, you're the most well behaved, Neville.”

“Yeah, but I don't... I mean... I don't think people listen to me. And my grades aren't great.”

“You work hard and do your best, I think Dumbledore and McGonagall must know that. As to the other part, Neville... you stood up to Malfoy in our first year. Don't think about your perceived flaws, just think about doing what's right. You've got power now, Neville, you should use it.”

He nodded absently. “I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Iliana. I gotta go now.”

“See you later, Neville!”

A few minutes later, Ginny came by and sat next to Ron. She looked at Iliana and Luna, who were having a conversation in wizarding sign language now. She ignored them and began to chat with the disguised Tonks.

After who knew how long, Hermione and Neville finally showed up again. Neville's stomach grumbled loudly, and Iliana gave him a sandwich she'd packed – the trolley only ever had sweets on it, which was stupid because the trip was so long they should at least have afternoon tea with decent food at some point, especially since the train always loaded around lunch time.

“Thanks, Iliana, I'm starving,” Neville said.

“You're welcome. So, how'd it go?”

“Well, there are two fifth-year prefects from each House,” said Hermione, looking thoroughly disgruntled as she took her seat. “Boy and girl from each.”

“And guess who’s a Slytherin prefect?” asked Neville after swallowing first.

“Not Malfoy?” Ron said, aghast.

Neville nodded. “Yeah, it's Malfoy.”

“How?” Iliana asked. “He can't be the best behaved Slytherin in his year. Surely even Blaise Zabini would be preferable.”

“Politics, I think,” Neville said. “Zabini's mom and Dumbledore don't get on well. Of course, neither does Malfoy senior, but apparently Malfoy junior has the best grades of the Slytherin boys in his year, and so Dumbledore probably couldn't find a reason to not give it to him. But you're right, even Zabini would be preferable to Malfoy.”

[He gets good grades as well, the best in his year in Slytherin. If it wasn't for Hermione, he'd be the best in our year period, grades-wise,] Hypatia thought at Iliana.

Iliana didn't know how to pass this on, so she ignored it.

“Yeah. I don't know a lot about Zabini,” Iliana said, “but he seems a lot more fair and decent than Malfoy, from what I've heard.”

[He can be a bit Griffindorish when upset, yes, but he's still sore over you rejecting his friendship,] Hypatia thought-spoke.

'Can you stop that please, it's distracting?'

Hypatia sent Iliana a mental image of a little girl sticking her tongue out at her.

'Real mature, Hypatia.'

Neville nodded at her assessment of Zabini. As he did, he finally noticed the boy that Tonks appeared to be. “Hello. I'm Neville Longbottom. Who are you?”

“That's Auror Tonks,” Iliana said. “She's my bodyguard until we get to Hogwarts.”

“'She'?”

“I'm a metamorphmagus,” Tonks explained. “But for now, my alias is Jacob Jackson, and I'm Iliana's cousin from America.”

“Okay. But why do you need a bodyguard?” Neville said, going back to his sandwich.

“Because Voldemort is back, remember?” Iliana said.

Neville flinched slightly, then nodded, still eating.

“Who's the Slytherin prefect among the girls?” Iliana asked Hermione.

“That complete cow Pansy Parkinson,” said Hermione viciously. “How she got to be a prefect when she’s thicker than a concussed troll...”

“Who’s Hufflepuff?” Ginny asked.

“Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott,” said Neville. “I like Hannah. Not sure about Ernie.”

“And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw,” said Hermione.

“I like Anthony,” Luna said, pulling a copy of the Quibbler out of her robes. “He once told off someone for stealing my shoes.”

“Anyway, we’re supposed to patrol the corridors every so often,” Neville told Iliana and Ron, “and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving.” Neville looked like the idea of doing that terrified him.

“Man, I wish I could be a prefect,” Ron said. “It'd be brilliant to get Goyle or Crabbe for something.”

“We’re not supposed to abuse our position, Ron!” said Hermione sharply.

“Yeah, right, because Malfoy won’t abuse it at all,” said Ron sarcastically.

“So you’d descend to his level?”

“No, I’d just make sure I got his mates before he got mine.”

“For heaven’s sake, Ron —”

“I’d make Goyle do lines, it’d kill him, he hates writing,” said Ron happily. He lowered his voice to Goyle’s low grunt and, screwing up his face in a look of pained concentration, mimed writing in midair. “I … must … not … look … like … a … baboon’s … backside. …”

Everyone laughed, but nobody laughed harder than Luna. She let out a scream of mirth that caused Hedwig to wake up and flap her wings indignantly and Crookshanks to leap up into the luggage rack, hissing. Even Aqua the grass snake poked out of Iliana's robes to glower at Luna. She laughed so hard that her magazine slipped out of her grasp, slid down her legs, and onto the floor.

“That was funny!”

Her prominent eyes swam with tears as she gasped for breath, staring at Ron. He sighed, recognizing one of her laughter fits. 

Neville, on the other hand, was utterly nonplussed; he looked around at the others, who were now laughing at the expression on his face and at the ludicrously prolonged laughter of Luna, who was rocking backward and forward, clutching her sides. Tonks was looking perplexed as well.

“I guess neither of you have seen one of Luna's laugh attacks,” Iliana said. “The first one I ever saw her have, she ended up in the hospital wing for a calming draught.”

Tonks's eyes widened at this.

“Baboon’s … backside!” Luna choked, holding her ribs, her eyes streaming with amused tears.

Iliana leaned over to pick up Luna's magazine, and while her girlfriend was still laughing up a storm, Iliana started to read it. She had noticed something that made her dive for it. Upside down it had been hard to tell what the picture on the front was, but Iliana now realized it was a fairly bad cartoon of Cornelius Fudge; she only recognized him because of the lime-green bowler hat. One of Fudge’s hands was clenched around a bag of gold; the other hand was throttling a goblin. The cartoon was captioned: How Far Will Fudge Go to Gain Gringotts?

She turned to the indicated page, where it was a fairly ludicrous article about how Fudge was a horrible anti-goblin bigot who'd had loads of goblins assassinated, including baking them in pies. She laughed at this absurdity; the Quibbler was always fun to read.

Reading through it, she found another article that caught her eye: 'Sirius Black Continues Denials He Is Actually Stubby Boardman.' The article explained that Sirius Black was actually Stubby Boardman, retired lead singer of The Hobgoblins. The fan who wrote it had apparently tried to convince Sirius to come out of retirement and get the band back together, but Sirius had denied the allegation that he was Stubby Boardman. The article continued to say that the author had known he was innocent all along because she and Stubby had been having a romantic candle-lit dinner the night he supposedly was tracking down Pettigrew. Iliana made a mental note to give Sirius a copy of this issue of the Quibbler for him to read. She gave this copy back to Luna by setting it next to her on the seat. This was because Luna had slumped out of her chair and was recovering from her giggle fit on the floor, mostly quiet but occasionally tittering into her hands.

“Guess what I got for my birthday?” said Neville.

“Another Remembrall?” Addy asked with Iliana's voice, remembering the marblelike device Neville’s grandmother had sent him in an effort to improve his abysmal memory.

“No,” said Neville, “I could do with one, though, I lost the old one ages ago. No, look at this.”

He dug the hand that was not keeping a firm grip on Trevor into his schoolbag and after a little bit of rummaging pulled out what appeared to be a small gray cactus in a pot, except that it was covered with what looked like boils rather than spines.

“Mimbulus mimbletonia,” he said proudly.

Iliana and company stared at the thing. It was pulsating slightly, giving it the rather sinister look of some diseased internal organ. Magical plants really did tend to be very weird.

“It’s really, really rare,” said Neville, beaming. “I don’t know if there’s one in the greenhouse at Hogwarts, even. I can’t wait to show it to Professor Sprout. My great-uncle Algie got it for me in Assyria. I’m going to see if I can breed from it.”

“Er, cool,” Iliana said. She knew Herbology was Neville's best subject. “Does it do anything?”

“Loads of stuff!” said Neville proudly. “It’s got an amazing defensive mechanism — hold Trevor for me. …”

He dumped the toad into Iliana’s lap and took a quill from his schoolbag. Luna looked up from the floor, watching what Neville was doing. Neville held the Mimbulus mimbletonia up to his eyes, his tongue between his teeth, chose his spot, and gave the plant a sharp prod with the tip of his quill.

Liquid squirted from every boil on the plant, thick, stinking, dark-green jets of it; they hit the ceiling, the windows, and spattered Luna’s magazine. Ginny, who had flung her arms up in front of her face just in time, merely looked as though she was wearing a slimy green hat, but Iliana, whose hands had been busy preventing the escape of Trevor, received a face full. It smelled like rancid manure.

Neville, whose face and torso were also drenched, shook his head to get the worst out of his eyes.

“S-sorry,” he gasped. “I haven’t tried that before. … Didn’t realize it would be quite so … Don’t worry, though, Stinksap’s not poisonous,” he added nervously, as Iliana spat a mouthful onto the floor.

“Wotcher, Iliana,” said the disguised Tonks. “I'll clean it up.”

“No, I'd better do it,” Ginny said.

“Oh, right. I'm not great with householdey spells.”

Ginny pulled out her wand and said, “Scourgify!” All the sap disappeared, though the odor lingered. Tonks got her own wand out and freshened the air with it.

Just in time, too. The compartment door opened again, and there stood Draco Malfoy and his two troll bookends.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Iliana asked, doing her best impression of Malfoy's mother looking down her nose at scum.

“I just wanted to drop by to tell you that you can't get away with attacking me anymore, Potter, because I can give detentions now.”

“More proof the prefect system is broken and needs replacing,” she said, annoyed. Al had been intending to apologize to the little snot, but he just HAD to go and make that more difficult.

“Well I'd say it's working pretty well,” Malfoy drawled. “After all, you didn't get made a prefect. Although... they do apparently give badges to beavers and cowardly squibs, so you might have a point, Potter.”

Neville stood up, his wand drawn. Malfoy whipped out his own wand in response, but didn't look too worried.

“I have a new wand now, Malfoy. Turns out, my old wand – my dad's wand – was holding me back.”

Malfoy sneered at Neville. “Whatever you say, squib.”

“You're very lucky we're not at school yet, Malfoy,” Hermione said. “Or I'd give you a detention for your language.”

“I'm a prefect too, Granger. You can't give detentions to other prefects.”

“More's the pity,” she said, looking sour.

“Hey Potter, how's it feel to be second best to Longbottom?”

“Malfoy,” Neville said, “I'm not taking your crap anymore. I'm not a squib, and unlike before, now I know that for sure. Watch this.”

He pointed his wand at a Chocolate Frog on the seat nearby and with a swish and a flick, whispered “Wingardium leviosa.”

The Chocolate Frog flew at the ceiling so fast it flattened against the ceiling. Everyone in the compartment – Malfoy and his goons included – stared wide-eyed at this display of power. Tonks's jaw had dropped comically at the sight.

Iliana turned to Malfoy and said with a smirk, “It feels pretty good to see Neville succeed, actually.”

Without another word, Malfoy and his bookends left the compartment, closing the door behind them.

“That was brilliant, Neville! Malfoy looked like he was going to be ill!”

“Thanks, Iliana,” he said, sitting down again. He looked embarrassed. “I uh... apparently I have a problem with putting too much power into my spells now.”

“Well yeah, you've been pushing your magic through a wand that didn't match you for years, now you have one that matches, you'll have to learn how to stop compensating for a mismatched wand.”

“Yeah, I'll have to practice that.”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts is gonna be cool this year, Iliana,” Ron said. “Sirius isn't going to let Malfoy get away with any shite this year.”

Neville blinked. “Sirius? Your godfather is teaching Defense this year?”

“Yes. Dumbledore asked him, and he agreed on the condition it would only be a year, because of the curse.”

Neville grinned. “Yeah, that's going to be interesting. People are still getting used to the idea of Sirius being innocent. It's only been less than two years since he was released.”

“Yes, and Sirius being a teacher is going to be hard on the other teachers,” Hermione said. “McGonagall will remember when he was in school. And he doesn't seem to have grown up much.”

“Snape's gonna be livid,” said Ron with a smirk.

“I'm curious how he's going to dress,” Iliana said. “For some reason, I have a hard time picturing him wearing wizard robes.”

“Ha! If he dresses in his usual Muggle getup, the Slytherins are going to hate him. Except for Javier, I guess. That'll be hilarious.”

“I just hope he's a better teacher than Professor Hagrid,” Luna said. “I haven't heard many good things about him.”

“Are you taking Care of Magical Creatures this year, Luna?”

“Yes, even despite Hagrid. Kettleburn wasn't much better, from what I've heard. Lots of accidents in his class. At least Hagrid has a better record in that regard.”

“Yeah, Malfoy getting mauled for not paying attention in class, and then burns and stuff from the skrewts. But the skrewts are dead, of course.”

“Please, Malfoy did that on purpose; he was baiting Buckbeak.”

“No Ron, I don't think he's that suicidal. He's just rude to anyone he considers beneath him.”

“Wasn't Sirius at King's Cross?”

“Yeah, but he could easily Apparate to Hogsmeade,” Hermione said.

“True,” said Iliana, “But I'm betting he goes there on his motorbike.”

“Just as long as he doesn't fly it there in the middle of the day.”

Iliana leaned back, letting Luna lean against her shoulder again. It was still a long way to school, and she was tired.

~

At last the train began to slow down and they heard the usual racket up and down it as everybody scrambled to get their luggage and pets assembled, ready for departure. Neville and Hermione were supposed to supervise all this; they disappeared from the carriage again, leaving Iliana and the others to look after Crookshanks, Hedwig, and Arnan – Ron's long-eared owl.

“I'll carry Hedwig for you, Iliana, if you want?” Luna said.

“No need. Hedwig and Arnan can fly up to Hogwarts from here. But thanks for the offer.”

They opened the cages of the owls, and with a pair of looks from the two owls, they flew off toward the castle.

They shuffled out of the compartment feeling the first sting of the night air on their faces as they joined the crowd in the corridor. Slowly they moved toward the doors. Iliana could smell the pine trees that lined the path down to the lake. She stepped down onto the platform and looked around, listening for the familiar call of “Firs’ years over here … firs’ years …”

But it did not come. Instead a quite different voice, a brisk female one, was calling, “First years line up over here, please! All first years to me!”

A lantern came swinging toward Iliana and by its light he saw the prominent chin and severe haircut of Professor Grubbly-Plank, the witch who had taken over Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures lessons for a while the previous year.

“Where's Hagrid?” she asked aloud.

“I don’t know,” said Ginny, “but we’d better get out of the way, we’re blocking the door.”

“Oh yeah …”

Iliana kept looking for Hagrid. He couldn't have left, they would have heard something about it, she was sure. 

She turned to Tonks, who was still disguised. “Do you know where Hagrid is?”

“Sorry, Iliana, I promised Dumbledore I wouldn't say. Anyway, I reckon you'll be fine once you get in the carriages. Wotcher!” she said, vanishing into the crowd, much to Iliana's annoyance.

As she approached the thestral-drawn stagecoaches, she took some roast beef leftovers from last night she'd had in her pocket and fed the nearest thestral some meat. They preferred raw meat, but they apparently wouldn't say no to cooked meat. As she fed them, several people stared in fear at the pieces of meat disappearing into thin air, from their point of view. Only people who had seen someone die could see thestrals, and if Iliana hadn't already met that criteria after killing Professor Quirrell in her first year, she would after witnessing Mother's super-powered patronus using arrows to make Death Eaters explode into tiny chunks last June.

“The stagecoaches are drawn by thestrals,” she explained to some terrified second-year students watching the meat vanish from her hand. “There's gentle creatures, thestrals. But only people who've seen people die can see thestrals.”

This did not seem to reassure anyone listening, so she stopped trying. When the meat was gone, she got in the coach next to Luna.

A short distance away, Draco Malfoy, followed by a small gang of cronies including Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, was pushing some timid-looking second years out of the way so that they could get a coach to themselves. Seconds later Hermione emerged panting from the crowd, Neville following behind her.

“Malfoy was being absolutely foul to a first year back there, I swear I’m going to report him, he’s only had his badge three minutes and he’s using it to bully people worse than ever. Where’s Crookshanks?”

“Ginny’s got him,” said Iliana. “There she is.”

Ginny had just emerged from the crowd, clutching a squirming Crookshanks.

“Thanks,” said Hermione, relieving Ginny of the cat and climbing aboard the carriage. Soon, they were underway.

“So I wonder where Hagrid is?” Ginny asked. “You all saw Grubbly-Plank was here instead, right?”

“Yes, we saw her. It's odd. You'd think we'd have heard something. If he's not at the feast, I'll ask Sirius.”

Speaking of Sirius, they heard the roar of a motorbike engine in the distance. The sound got nearer and nearer, and then a whooping Sirius was roaring past the carriages on his motorbike, waving at everyone as he did. Iliana noticed he was wearing black leather pants, a black leather jacket, and some kind of colorful t-shirt under the jacket.

“He's riding it up to the castle?” Iliana said, bewildered.

Ron and Ginny were laughing. Luna and Neville smiled. Hermione was frowning.

“He's a teacher now! He's supposed to be setting a good example to the students!” she said indignantly.

“I wonder where he's going to park it?” Ginny wondered aloud.

“Probably wherever Hagrid had it when he was holding onto it for Sirius,” Iliana said.

As they passed Hagrid's hut, Iliana saw there were no lights on in it. Which, at this time of day, most likely meant he wasn't home.

Once they got up to the castle and inside it to the Great Hall, Luna drifted off to the Ravenclaw table. The teachers didn't give them a hard time about eating at other tables most of the time, but this was the Welcoming Feast, so they didn't want to push their luck. Ginny wandered off to meet friends. Iliana, Ron, Hermione, and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick (the Gryffindor House ghost) and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Iliana airy, overly friendly greetings that made her quite sure they had stopped talking about her a split second before. She had more important things to worry about, however: She was looking over the students’ heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall.

“He’s not there.”

Ron and Hermione scanned the staff table too, though there was no real need; Hagrid’s size made him instantly obvious in any lineup.

“He can’t have left,” said Ron, sounding slightly anxious.

“Of course he hasn’t,” said Iliana firmly.

“You don’t think he’s … hurt, or anything, do you?” said Hermione uneasily.

“No,” said Iliana at once.

“But where is he, then?”

There was a pause, then Iliana said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati, and Lavender could not hear, “Maybe he’s not back yet. You know — from his mission — the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore.”

“Yeah … yeah, that’ll be it,” said Ron, sounding reassured, but Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid’s absence.

“Who's that?” she said sharply, pointing toward the middle of the staff table.

Iliana’s eyes followed hers. They lit first upon Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the center of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore’s head was inclined toward the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked, Iliana thought, like somebody’s maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and Iliana saw, with a shock of recognition, a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

“We saw her in one of Al's visions!” Iliana said.

“You did? Which one?”

“The one about being cowed by a toad. Now I see why; she looks like the ugliest toad in the world. Anyway, then she showed up again in a second vision right after getting our magic back, the one that was so chaotic and jumbled I'm still trying to sort it all out. I don't know who she is, but I recognize her from those.”

The staff door opened then, and they saw Sirius come in, waving at Iliana and company; they waved back. He was still wearing his bike leathers from before. Iliana could see the t-shirt under the jacket now, it was a Blue Oyster Cult t-shirt. The woman in the cardigan looked at him as though a dead skunk left rotting for a day in the hot summer sun had suddenly sat next to her.

“What's that toad woman doing here, I wonder? Is she the new History teacher, after that Umbridge woman got Remus fired?”

“No idea,” Ron said. “Nice cardigan, though.” He was smirking.

The squat woman was talking to Sirius. They couldn't hear what she was saying, but judging by the look on Sirius's face, it wasn't anything good. He was frowning at her, and when he spoke they could just make out something that sounded like “...business is it of yours...” Then McGonagall went pale and snapped something off at Sirius, waving him over with a small gesture behind the toad-like woman's back. Sirius, looking like a chastised teenager again, sat down on a seat next to McGonagall; a seat that hadn't been there a moment ago. She was talking very quietly to him, and the toad-like woman was smirking worse than Draco Malfoy when he'd scored some perceived victory over a rival. It didn't bode well.

When they were done talking, Sirius stood and turned to the toad-like woman as though he'd been made to swallow stinksap, and said something back to her, bowing with an over-the-top flourish that was surely sarcastic. She didn't seem to catch the sarcasm, though, judging by her continued smirk.

“Whoever she is, she worries McGonagall enough to turn pale before presumably telling Sirius off about his rudeness.”

“Dumbledore and Snape don't look too well, either,” Ron pointed out.

“I wonder who she could be? Who could be that respected by the teachers?”

“I don't think it's respect, Hermione,” Iliana said. “I think it's fear. Snape's micro-expressions – the stuff even occlumens can't hide – tells me he's as wary of her as though she were a dangerous beast. Maybe even more so.”

“Do you think she works for the ministry?” Ron said. “You told us Sirius told you the Ministry was angling to get one of their people in as a teacher at Hogwarts. Maybe they succeeded?”

“How, though? She's not DADA, and she's not CoMC, what else is left?”

Ron shrugged. “No idea. But I wish they'd hurry up, I'm starving.”

McGonagall got up a moment later and left, presumably to get the first-years for the Sorting. As she did, Grubbly-Plank came in and sat in Hagrid's usual spot, which confirmed that the Sorting was about to begin.

“You know, I've been thinking lately... this Sorting is kind of stupid,” Iliana said. “Who thought of 'let's quarter the students every year into four groups that compete with each other and even antagonize one another'? And who thought that was a good idea?”

She didn't get an answer to her rhetorical question. Before anyone had the chance to answer, McGonagall came out with the new first-years.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.

The first years’ faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling. Iliana recalled, fleetingly, how terrified she had felt when she had stood there, waiting for the unknown test that would determine to which House he belonged.

The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat’s brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:  
   
In times of old when I was new  
And Hogwarts barely started  
The founders of our noble school  
Thought never to be parted:

United by a common goal,  
They had the selfsame yearning,  
To make the world’s best magic school  
And pass along their learning.

“Together we will build and teach!”  
The four good friends decided  
And never did they dream that they  
Might someday be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere  
As Slytherin and Gryffndor?  
Unless it was the second pair  
Of Huffepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong?  
How could such friendships fail?  
Why, I was there and so can tell  
The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, “We’ll teach just those  
Whose ancestry is purest.”  
Said Ravenclaw, “We’ll teach those whose  
Intelligence is surest.”

Said Gryffindor, “We’ll teach all those  
With brave deeds to their name,”  
Said Hufflepuff, “I’ll teach the lot,  
And treat them just the same.”

These differences caused little strife  
When first they came to light,  
For each of the four founders had  
A House in which they might

Take only those they wanted, so,  
For instance, Slytherin  
Took only pure-blood wizards  
Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind  
Were taught by Ravenclaw  
While the bravest and the boldest  
Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff she took the rest,  
And taught them all she knew,  
Thus the Houses and their founders  
Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony  
For several happy years,  
But then discord crept among us  
Feeding on our faults and fears.

The Houses that, like pillars four,  
Had once held up our school,  
Now turned upon each other and,  
Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school  
Must meet an early end,  
What with dueling and with fighting  
And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning  
When old Slytherin departed  
And though the fighting then died out  
He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four  
Were whittled down to three  
Have the Houses been united  
As they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here  
And you all know the score:  
I sort you into Houses  
Because that is what I’m for,

But this year I’ll go further,  
Listen closely to my song:  
Though condemned I am to split you  
Still I worry that it’s wrong,

Though I must fulfill my duty  
And must quarter every year  
Still I wonder whether sorting  
May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,  
The warning history shows,  
For our Hogwarts is in danger  
From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her  
Or we’ll crumble from within.  
I have told you, I have warned you. …  
Let the Sorting now begin.

The hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured, for the first time in Iliana's memory, with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbors and Iliana, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.

“Branched out a bit this year, hasn’t it?” said Ron, his eyebrows raised.

“Quite,” Iliana said.

'A bit long, that song,' said Addy's voice in her head. She nodded in response.

There were a lot of students this year. Iliana's own year had been one of the smallest classes on record, she knew. The number had gone up a bit for Luna's year, but this year the number was staggering. She counted 97 students waiting to be Sorted, and was very glad she'd had sandwiches on the train. Poor Ron next to her was so hungry his stomach was audible. She wondered just then if there was something wrong with Ron, some kind of magical parasite, given he always seemed hungry even at Hogwarts. And poor as the Weasleys were, they ate well, she knew.

But the Sorting, yes. Ninety-seven new students. If it was an even split, each House would be getting about 25 new students this year. And judging by the emotions she was picking up from them, there was a much higher percentage of Muggleborns among them. Wizard-raised students were generally awed and nervous, but knew more or less what to expect. The Muggleborns tended to be more confused, and to feel like fishes out of water. She figured, at an estimate, that roughly 35 or 40% of the new students were Muggleborns.

The split wasn't as equal as she'd thought it would be. There were more Hufflepuffs this year than any other House got. Of those remaining, the split was more equal but skewed toward Ravenclaw. Between Slytherin and Griffindor, Slytherin just barely had more new students. Which meant Griffindor was in fourth place in terms of new students this year, but Slytherin only beat them by a single student.

With a grin, she witnessed Dumbledore stand up to speak.

“To our newcomers,” said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, “welcome! To our old hands — welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!”

There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate — for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread, sauces, and flagons of pumpkin juice.

“Excellent,” said Ron, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them onto his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick.

Hermione began to talk with Nick about the Sorting Hat, for he told them sometimes it gave warnings when it felt the need, and they all knew why this time. Iliana hadn't heard anything after Snape said he'd convinced the Death Eaters to kill Voldemort again to redo the resurrection. She hoped it would go wrong, buying them some more time. But she'd been reading the Daily Prophet, infuriating as that was. According to it, nothing unusual was happening aside from the Potter 'boy' being a mad, lying delinquent. (The paper didn't even mention Cedric directly, just warned people against Dumbledore's pawns trying to wreak havoc on the Ministry with lies.) That was frustrating. Weakened by the failed ritual or not, Voldemort was now known by his followers to be alive in some fashion, so it was only a matter of time before they acted.

Not really paying attention to Nick's conversation, she was kind of glad when he left in a huff at something Ron said. She looked up at Sirius, who was eating in a manner she recognized as meaning he was trying to get done so he could leave. McGonagall chastised him quietly, and he glowered at her but slowed down with a sigh. If she had to guess, Iliana would guess McGonagall had told him he wasn't allowed to leave until Dumbledore dismissed everyone.

When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the hall was starting to creep upward again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the headmaster. Iliana was feeling pleasantly drowsy now. Her four-poster bed was waiting somewhere above, wonderfully warm and soft.

“Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,” said Dumbledore. “First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students — and a few of our older students ought to know by now too.” (Iliana, Ron, and Hermione exchanged smirks.)

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch’s office door.

“We have had three changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons. I'm also glad to announce that Defense Against the Dark Arts will be taught by Professor Sirius Black, who of course was exonerated roughly a year and a half ago.”

There was some small applause for Grubbly-Plank. Sirius had been met initially with silence, but at the reminder he was innocent, there was a small smattering of applause. Iliana, Ron, Hermione, Luna, and the Weasleys applauded the loudest.

“Yes. Professor Black, who was being trained as an Auror at the end of the war, has spent the year and a half since his release getting back to fighting form and I was most pleased when he accepted the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for this year. However, he will only be staying the one year.”

When the applause died down, Dumbledore said, “It is also my sad duty to inform you that Professor Remus Lupin has been removed from his post for,” he hesitated only momentarily, “recent changes to the laws that prevent him working at Hogwarts anymore.”

There was an eruption of angry noise at this from most of the tables; Lupin was a much beloved teacher, people had started getting interested in History after he replaced Binns. Dumbledore waited patiently for a few moments for the noise to die down before finally getting their attention again with a magically magnified coughing sound.

“Yes, sad news indeed,” Dumbledore said, his face morose. “But I cannot explain further without doing more harm to the poor man's reputation. Just know that he is the victim of an unfair change in the law.”

He paused, then continued to speak. “Which reminds me, I am also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new History of Magic teacher.”

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause during which Iliana, Ron, and Hermione gasped at recognizing the name; so that's what that horrible woman looked like? They hadn't heard enough about her appearance to guess. 

The three of them were also somewhat panicked; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.

Dumbledore continued, “Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the —”

He broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge said, “Hem, hem,” and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat back down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout’s eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, Siri—er, Professor Black's face curled into a sneer of disgust, and Professor McGonagall’s mouth was as thin as Iliana had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Professor Umbridge simpered, “for those kind words of welcome.”

Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish and Iliana and company felt a powerful rush of dislike that they could not explain to themselves; all they knew was that they loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. Tier, who had been mostly quiet for months, rose inside them like an angry wolf with his hackles raised, and a small growl escaped her lips before she could stop it. 

Umbridge gave another little throat-clearing cough (“Hem, hem”) and continued: “Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!” She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. “And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!”

Iliana glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy; on the contrary, they all looked rather taken aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.

“I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends!”

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.

“I’ll be her friend as long as I don’t have to borrow that cardigan,” Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again (“Hem, hem”), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.

“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.”

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back. Sirius glared at her. Professor McGonagall’s dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Iliana distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little “Hem, hem” and went on with her speech.

“Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation …”

It was a strange sensation, just then, for Iliana and Adira's attention was waning faster than a History class with Binns, but they could feel Hypatia listening attentively, and they spotted Hermione doing the same. Also like Hermione, she didn't enjoy what she was hearing, not one little bit. Tier seemed to be listening, too, for every word she said made him more and more on edge, to the point she was really hoping her eyes wouldn't glow red like they had the first time Tier had ever fronted. She also hoped Tier wouldn't turn them into some kind of beast and attack this new teacher; even if they managed not to go to Azkaban for it, they'd never live it down as long as they lived.

Sensing her worry, Tier reigned himself in. He pulled a bone from their pocket that she hadn't noticed him keeping earlier, and was gnawing on it as Umbridge spoke.

Professor Umbridge, for her part, was apparently unaware of the restlessness of her audience.

“… because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.”

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, except for Sirius, who had his arms crossed defiantly. Tier bit down so hard the bone in their mouth snapped. Iliana noticed that several of the other teachers brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.

“Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,” he said, bowing to her. “Now — as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held …”

“Yes, it certainly was illuminating,” said Hermione in a low voice.

“You’re not telling me you enjoyed it?” Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face upon Hermione. “That was about the dullest speech I’ve ever heard, and I grew up with Percy.”

“I said illuminating, not enjoyable,” said Hermione. “It explained a lot.”

“It sure did.” It was Iliana's voice, but Hypatia was using it. Judging by the lack of any change to the faces of her friends, their eyes hadn't changed color this time.

“Did it?” asked Ron. “Sounded like a load of waffle to me.”

“There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle,” said Hermione grimly.

“Was there?” said Ron blankly.

“How about ‘progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged’? How about ‘pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited’?”

“Well, what does that mean?” said Ron impatiently.

“I’ll tell you what it means,” said Hermione ominously. “It means the Ministry’s interfering at Hogwarts.”

Ron looked worried at this knowledge. He wasn't the only one.

“Hey, you lot,” said a voice behind them. They jumped in fright, but it was just Sirius. He was looking displeased. And only then did they notice everyone was getting up to leave.

“Sirius!” Iliana said.

“Hey, Iliana,” he said. “Anyway, I came over here to tell you that the toad-looking woman--”

“Works at the ministry. Yeah, we recognized her name when Dumbledore said it.”

“And Iliana recognized her face from one of Al's visions!” Ron said.

“Really? You'll have to tell me about that later. I didn't know who they'd gotten for History of Magic until McGonagall told me who she was. Stupid Fudge. Anyway, you lot better get going, so you don't miss the password.”

“Don't you know it?”

“Er... about that, one of the caveats of my working here this year is I'm to avoid the Griffindor common room if I can. Seems the Fat Lady still hasn't forgiven me for attacking her, even though I've apologized and explained that I was half-mad from dementor exposure. But I got better.” He said that last sentence with a familiar accent, and a grin.

“'She turned me into a newt'!” Iliana quoted back at him.

“Ha!” Sirius barked with laughter. Hermione giggled, recognizing the line. Ron just looked confused.

“Muggle cultural reference,” Iliana explained. “So you've watched Monty Python?”

“Yes I have. Lily introduced me to it, back during the war. I used to binge-watch it whenever we had to wait at her place or James's house. James's was the one that blew up when... well... anyway, you'd better run along now.”

“Right, Professor Black,” Iliana said, winking at him as they got up, just before running to catch up with everyone else.

“Oh wait,” Hermione said, “I'm a prefect. I have to catch up to Neville.”

She ran along ahead, catching up with Neville. The two of them were guiding the first-years with the other Prefects. It took nearly the entire flock of Prefects to watch the large group of new students this year, there were so many compared to before.

Iliana's eyes met the eyes of one of the first-years, one that Hypatia informed them was named Euan Abercrombie. She grinned at him, but he looked petrified with terror and ran off. Another boy next to him had a similar terrified expression and stole a horrified look at Iliana, who felt the grin slide off her face like Stinksap.

She'd been stupid to not expect this. They got a lot of weird looks anyway, mostly from Muggle-borns who'd been taught by Muggle culture that multiples were dangerous monsters, which was more often than not completely false. While their collective wasn't trauma-based, or at least they didn't think they were, and even if they were they still didn't match the stereotypical pattern of MPD, a lot of collectives did in fact have a trauma factor in their formation. She didn't think it could be 'just' trauma; if it was, there'd be millions, maybe even billions, of such collectives in the world. But yeah, whatever other factors were involved, some collectives did have a trauma basis, and so they generally tended to be victims rather than villains. Even the few collectives with violent members usually had that violence aimed either inward or out at their abusers. It was absurd to think multiples would be any more likely than singlets to be violent towards innocent people.

Anyway, she should have known the weird looks would increase. The Daily Prophet had been spouting lies about them all summer long, and Rita Skeeter had been doing it long before that.

“Quite a wrackspurt infestation in here, Iliana,” said Luna from beside her.

“Wrackspurts?”

“They fly into your head through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy. I thought I saw some buzzing around your head just now.”

“Just thinking about the people who think I'm mad.”

Luna nodded sagely. “If you want to get rid of wrackspurts, Iliana, you have to think positive thoughts. They feed on negative thoughts, you see. Daddy thinks they're distantly related to dementors and lethifolds.”

Iliana chuckled. “Sounds like good advice, Luna. Thanks.”

“You're welcome. See you later, Iliana.”

The two girls hugged each other briefly before returning to their own dormitories.

Despite Luna's advice, her thoughts went negative again. Soon, she reached the end of the corridor to the Gryffindor common room and had come to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady before he realized that she did not know the new password.

“Er …” she said glumly, staring up at the Fat Lady, who smoothed the folds of her pink satin dress and looked sternly back at her.

“No password, no entrance,” she said loftily.

“Iliana, I know it!” someone panted from behind him, and she turned to see Neville jogging toward her, a couple first-years trailing behind him. At her curious look, he explained, “These two got lost back there, I went back for them while Hermione went on ahead. Anyway, I know the password. Guess what it is?”

“If I could guess, I would have.”

“Right. Anyway, I’m actually going to be able to remember it for once —” He waved a stunted little cactus he had shown them on the train. “Mimbulus mimbletonia!”

“Correct,” said the Fat Lady, and her portrait swung open toward them like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind, through which Iliana and Neville now climbed, letting the first-year students in ahead of them.

Passing by everyone in the common room, she was half glad she had her own room, and half wishing she had company. She passed a curious-looking Seamus Finnegan along the way, with his friend Dean Thomas. She waved hi, but was too tired to talk. She wanted to go right to bed as soon as possible.

But it was not to be. They followed her, Dean looking like he'd rather not be doing so. When she noticed, just outside her door, she turned to look curiously at them.

“Hey Iliana,” Dean said. The feelings coming off him were pretty close to Seamus’s. She remembered, then, that Dean was Muggle-born and Seamus's father was a Muggle.

“Hi Dean, Seamus.”

“You have a good holiday?”

Deciding a true account of her holiday would be too long to explain even if most of it weren't top secret, she settled on, “Frustrating. You?”

“Yeah, it was okay. Better than Seamus's, anyway.”

Neville appeared behind them and said, “Why, what happened, Seamus?”

Seamus didn't answer right away, pretending to be examining Neville's plant. Then he said, not looking at Iliana, “Me mam and Da didn’t want me to come back.”

“What?” said Iliana, confused.

“They didn’t want me to come back to Hogwarts.”

“Why not?”

Seamus again paused, considering the ugly plant, before saying in a measured tone, “I suppose... because of you.”

“What d’you mean?” said Iliana quickly. Her heart was beating rather fast. She felt vaguely as though something was closing in on her.

“Well,” said Seamus again, still avoiding her eyes, “they … er … well, it’s not just you, it’s Dumbledore too …”

“She believes the Daily Prophet?” said Iliana with forced calm. “She thinks I’m a liar and Dumbledore’s an old fool?”

Seamus looked up at him. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Did you tell them what Cedric said?”

“Aye. But, well... they think you're mad, and dangerous. More me Da than me Mam, at first. Then Da explained what Muggles think of... well...”

“So they believe those lies that popular Muggle culture tells about multiples?”

He nodded glumly. “An' what's more, they think you Confunded Cedric.”

“And what about you?”

“I... well... you're mostly okay, but well... Al did shake the castle that one time when 'e was riled, an' some of you've attacked Malfoy an' Rita Skeeter...”

“Different people react differently to the same things sometimes,” she said, her voice like ice. “That has nothing to do with whether I'm a multiple or not. We never hurt anyone permanently, and we're not proud of what we did. And have we ever attacked anyone other than Dra-- er, Malfoy or Rita Skeeter, to your knowledge?”

Seamus looked thoughtful. “Er... Crabbe and Goyle, but those two berks are Malfoy's bodyguards, so...”

“Al does have an issue with escalating conflicts, an issue we're going to work on, especially as it sometimes bleeds over to Chandra; but aside from that, we haven't attacked anyone who hadn't already attacked us at least once before. And Zoey's pranks do go overboard at times; we're going to make her work on that, too. But my point is, we've been known to be a Multiple for nearly four years now, and in all that time we've only ever attacked four people, three of whom truly deserved it, and we didn't do anything more than make them uncomfortable or scared. And trust me, we intend to apologize to Rita Skeeter if we can manage to contact her. Malfoy, too, if he'll listen.”

“The papers made it seem like you lot lash out at anyone who annoys you,” Seamus said.

Iliana snorted with laughter. “If that were true, we'd have attacked over half the school several times over by now. Remember our second year, when everyone thought we were the Heir of Slytherin? Or last year, with the 'Support Cedric Diggory' badges?”

“Er, right.”

Seamus was still thinking about everything she'd said. A minute or two later, he shrugged and smiled a little, holding his hand out. “Er... sorry. You've got a point. Sorry I doubted you.”

“Does this mean you believe me about Voldemort?”

He sighed, but nodded. “Yes. You and Cedric and Dumbledore are all saying it. I believe you. I'll try to explain it to Mam and Da.”

She took his hand and shook it.

When they let go, he said, “I won't pretend it isn't a bit weird, though, always has been. Y'know, this...” he gestured at her.

“You're preaching to the choir on that one, Seamus,” she said with a smirk. “And what about you, Dean?”

“My parents don't know anything about you. I've mentioned some of your names before, but they think you're all... that you all have your own bodies.”

“That's good. But what about YOU?”

“I'm with Seamus. It's a bit weird. Still haven't really gotten used to it. I uh... I thought the Prophet had a point, until you said your piece.”

He held out his hand, too, and she shook it.

“Oh,” Seamus said, “I need ta warn ya, but we're in the minority, I think. We've overheard loads of bad things about you lot over the years, and this year there's been a lot more of it already.”

She groaned. “Thanks for the warning, Seamus.”

“I reckon part of it is you've never really been very friendly. Bit stand-offish,” Dean said. “You know, you've got Ron and Hermione and Neville and Luna, then that's mostly it. Oh, and Ginny and the Weasley twins. And Javier, I guess. You barely talk to anyone else. I think you only talked to Seamus and I as much as you did because we used to share a dorm.”

“Well I never had friends growing up; my cousin bullied anyone who tried to be my friend. So I'm still not entirely sure how to be social with people. Then there was that whole Heir of Slytherin business, where most of the school turned on me. That didn't make things any easier. But yeah, we could try harder.”

“And then you were worried about Sirius Black the year after that,” Neville guessed.

“Yes, I was. Then when he was found innocent, distracted by getting to know him better.”

“An' that Triwizard Tournament,” Seamus said.

“Yes. Hard to make friends with people who think you're an attention-seeking prat. Oh yeah, and being famous for not dying, that doesn't help. It irritates me that people think I did something to Moldyshorts to made him vanish. It wasn't me at all, it was Mum's sacrifice. If anyone should be famous for bringing down Voldemort, it should be Lily Potter, not me.”

Seamus and Dean looked surprised by this information. But then they thought about it, and the pieces fell into place.

“That makes a lot more sense than a baby defeating him,” Dean said.

“Aye,” Seamus added.

“Right, I'll try to spread that fact around, Iliana. Dunno how much it'll help, but I'll still try.”

“Me too,” Seamus said.

Very soon after that, their group dispersed, everyone getting ready for bed in their own dormitories. Iliana fell asleep glad to know she had two more people on her side, even if they did think the Potters weird.

'We ARE weird, though,' was Al's last thought before sleep took them for the night.

Endnotes: Yes, there's eight members of the Potter collective. That's all I'm willing to do, even though our own collective has nine, mainly because of those nine, there's three of them that have been silent so long they may well have died for all we know. I blame depression. They were all active once, but years of depression and stress have made three of them go dark. Even Pi, the basis for Tier, sleeps more often than not.

Anyway, eight is a lot to keep track of, even with Mother and Tier being mostly quiet. So eight is the max. I am, however, thinking about adding another collective – one that doesn't transform – to the story. If I do, they will only have a smaller number, maybe 4 at the most. Just a thought for now.

This thing of Al and Zoey recognizing their behavior as wrong comes from a reader pointing out how wrong these behaviors were. Like Al and Zoey, we got so caught up in these moments that we didn't realize they would be wrong. Even though the person who pointed these things out was a bit of a jerk themselves in the end, I decided it was a good idea anyway to take their advice to heart. After all, we never got to see James and Sirius and their redemption arc from bullies in canon. This isn't quite the same thing; most of Al's problem is escalating during confrontations, Chandra's issue is letting Al's emotions bleed into his own too much and also escalating, and Zoey's problem is mostly just not thinking of consequences ahead of time, so none of them are being truly malicious.

And to explain why the staff have been weirdly lax with their actions... well, there's a lot of stuff that happens in canon that really shouldn't, that's fucked up and nobody seems to think there's anything wrong with it. Putting a bunch of minors – including an eight year old girl who isn't even fully human and thus might not react the same as humans – under a freezing cold lake in February in Scotland, likely without even consulting their guardians, comes to mind. So I consider it an extension of whatever it is in the wizarding world that does that nonsense.

As to the aliases 'Willow Pond' and 'Hyacinth Jones,' I didn't notice they were both surnames of Doctor Who companions until after the fact. *grin*

Lastly, when I think of Zoey, I think this girl looks pretty close to looking like her: http://78.media.tumblr.com/def59696b37c7085a266c7b34ae93432/tumblr_p4nbss9Vvj1r8uideo1_1280.jpg All she's missing is the mischievous grin and the heterochromia.


	4. Dolores Umbridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Potter collective meets Dolores Umbridge for the first time. They leave quite the impression on one another. Adira offers Malfoy a truce and an apology.

“ **The Many Faces Go To War: Chapter 4”**

By = Fayanora

 

**Chapter Four: Dolores Umbridge**

 

Notes: This is the second chapter of the sequel to “The Many Faces of Har---er, Adira Potter.” If you haven't read that series yet, this one isn't going to make much sense. Also, a reminder for anyone who forgot: the person formerly known as Harry still exists, she's just transgender in this one, her new name is Adira, nicknamed “Addy.”

 

NOTE: THIS HAS BEEN CHANGED AGAIN, because Reasons. Hopefully for the last time = From now on, 'Single quotes with no italics' will be Adira/Addy, ~Text in tildes~ will be Chandra, (Parentheses for Al,) [Brackets will be Hypatia], % Percentage symbols for Iliana %, # Pound signs for Mother/Avani, # * Asterisks for Zoey, * and {curly brackets for Tier.} Apologies for any confusion this may cause, I know some of it contradicts earlier formatting, but I tried to minimize that.

 

Text in _'Italics and British quotes'_ is Parseltongue.

 

J. K. Rowling owns this sandbox, I'm only playing in it.

 

Sorry for the long wait. Life happens.

 

***FAYANORA***

 

**[[One last note: Please re-read above notes, changes to formatting have been made.]]**

 

Iliana was astonished the next morning to find she was still herself. She got up and got ready, then went down with Ron, Hermione, and Neville to breakfast. They paused briefly as Hermione read and then took down a sign by the Weasley twins offering gold for testers of their products.

 

“They are the limit,” said Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up over a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend in October. “We’ll have to talk to them, Neville.”

 

Neville looked nervous. “Do we have to?”

 

“Neville,” said Iliana, “the twins aren't going to hurt you. Just talk to them, make them understand they can't test their products on humans. They need to test them on animals first.”

 

“Iliana!” shouted Hermione.

 

“What? That's how science works. You test on animals first, and if it works on them without the side effects being too bad, then you move on to human trials.”

 

“Well I don't like it.”

 

“Bet you like it better than testing directly on human volunteers, though.”

 

Hermione sighed. “Yes, fine. You're right.”

 

“I still don't fancy talking to them,” Neville said. “I don't really know why I was made a prefect.”

 

“What happened to the confident Neville from the train who faced down Malfoy like it was no problem?”

 

“That was Malfoy. The twins are much older and better at magic. Their grades aren't wonderful, but they're a lot better at magic than they let on.”

 

“So? They're not going to hurt you. And if they won't listen to you, threaten to tell their mother. Or threaten to sic me or Al on them.”

 

Neville laughed at that.

 

“Oh all right,” he finally said. “I'll talk to them when I see them.”

 

“Don't forget, Neville, I'll be there too,” Hermione said.

 

Neville nodded, smiling.

 

As they walked down the corridor full of talking portraits, Iliana turned to Hermione.

 

“What's wrong, Hermione? You've felt upset since before we found that sign.”

 

“Nothing's wrong, Iliana,” she said too quickly and too glibly.

 

“Don't lie to an empath, Hermione, it's like lying to a legilimens.”

 

She sighed. “Fine, okay. Lavender Brown believes the Daily Prophet. About you. She buys that rubbish about you and Cedric being in on the whole thing together, even thinks Cedric helped you get your name in the goblet, and that you're dangerous. I told her to shut her fat mouth, but it's still upsetting.”

 

Iliana shrugged. “It's Lavender Brown. She believes everything that old fraud Trelawney says. We know she's gullible.”

 

“Yes, but it's a symptom of a bigger problem. I'm honestly confused why you're not upset about it yourself.”

 

“I've been through worse. Plus, I had a talk with Dean and Seamus last night about it. His mum and dad believe the Prophet, too. They think we're dangerous because we're a multiple. But I set Seamus straight on the issue, and he's going to write to his parents to tell them he believes me.”

 

“Oh. Well, that's progress. Good. Maybe you can talk to Lavender, too. If she'll let you near her, the fraidy cat.”

 

“I'll try. Dean and Seamus did point out we're a bit unfriendly. I explained it was because of not having friends growing up, and then the whole school turning on us at least twice. But I've done some thinking, and I think there'd be a lot less of that if people knew the truth about us.”

 

“Whadda ya mean?” Ron asked.

 

“I mean, I think I need to expose my past. Sure the Dursleys were arrested for child abuse, but that didn't stick around long in the news. I'm sure people have forgotten by now. And it's not like the contents of the trial were made public. I'm sure most people still think I was raised in a castle like a spoiled brat and the Dursleys were occasional visitors that abused me when they were there. I need to tell them the truth.”

 

“How're you gonna do that?”

 

“I'm going to ask Healer Young for some help finding a trustworthy news outlet and reporter to tell my story to. I need to talk with him again anyway, after Voldemort rising. We've been having nightmares again. And we killed some of those Death Eaters. I'm not as bothered by it as I was with Quirrell, since I'm older and Healer Young helped me realize that I was defending my own life. But still, nightmares you know. So I'll owl him later.”

 

“Are you also gonna talk to the reporter about You-Know-Who?” Ron asked.

 

“I... I don't know. Maybe I should. And if I do, I can see if I can get Cedric’s input as well. There's probably still going to be people convinced we're colluding together, but it's worth a try.”

 

Iliana stopped, realizing they were at the Griffindor table just in time to avoid running into it with her shins. She looked up at the staff table. Professor Grubbly-Plank was chatting to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and Hagrid was once again conspicuous only by his absence. The enchanted ceiling above them echoed her mood; it was a miserable rain-cloud gray.

 

“Dumbledore didn’t even mention how long that Grubbly-Plank woman’s staying,” she said.

 

“Maybe …” said Hermione thoughtfully.

 

“What?” said both Iliana and Ron together.

 

“Well … maybe he didn’t want to draw attention to Hagrid not being here.”

 

“What d’you mean, draw attention to it?” said Ron, half laughing. “How could we not notice?”

 

Before Hermione could answer, a tall black girl with long, braided hair had marched up to Iliana.

 

“Hi, Angelina.”

 

“Hi,” she said, “good summer?”

 

“Not particularly,” Iliana said. “And you?”

 

“Er... fine I guess. Anyway, I hear you're the new Quidditch Captain.”

 

“Oh, right. Yes, I am. Thanks for reminding me. I guess if Wood is gone, we need a new Keeper, right?”

 

“Yeah. So when are tryouts?”

 

“Dunno yet. But I'll talk with McGonagall, see if I can schedule them for this coming weekend.”

 

Angelina grinned, but also looked nervous. “Great. I'll check back with you later, okay?”

 

“You could, but I think I'll just make signs to post on the bulletin board when I have the date and time set. Maybe I can get Luna to help, she's an artist.”

 

“Er, okay. See you later, Iliana!”

 

“You too, Angelina.”

 

As they sat down and started putting food on their plate, Iliana said, “You know, Wood's major flaw was we never had alternates in our lineup. Whenever I got in the Hospital Wing before a match, we couldn't play. Well that's silly. So I'm going to include alternates in the tryouts. I think I'll ask Ginny to try out. She'd make a pretty good Chaser, I think.”

 

“Good thinking, Iliana,” Ron said.

 

“Yes. Other teams do that, I think,” Hermione said.

 

“Exactly. So we should, too.”

 

“I’d forgotten Wood had left,” said Hermione vaguely, buttering some toast. “I suppose that will make quite a difference to the team?”

 

“I s’pose,” said Iliana, taking the bench opposite. “He was a good Keeper.”

 

“Still, it won’t hurt to have some new blood, will it?” said Ron.

 

Iliana sensed excitement and nerves from Ron and glanced at him before taking a bite of eggs. Did he want to try out? She didn't know what she thought about that. It could be good for Ron, but he had confidence issues. She hoped he was good at it, if he tried out.

 

With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. Hedwig was nowhere to be seen, but Iliana was hardly surprised; her only correspondent was Remus, now that he was fired, and she doubted Remus would have anything new to tell her after only twenty-four hours apart. Hermione, however, had to move her orange juice aside quickly to make way for a large damp barn owl bearing a sodden Daily Prophet in its beak.

 

“Still giving money to the enemy, I see,” she commented.

 

Hermione glowered at her. “We need to see what the enemy are saying about us. If that means giving them some money, then that's what we do,” said Hermione darkly, and she unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it, not emerging until Iliana and Ron had finished eating.

 

“Nothing,” she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. “Nothing about you or Dumbledore or Cedric or anything.”

 

Iliana shrugged.

 

Neville sat down next to them and started putting food on his plate.

 

“Hi, Neville.”

 

“Hi, Iliana, Hermione.”

 

They were all almost done with their meals when McGonagall came along to hand out the class schedules.

 

“Look at today!” groaned Ron. “History of Magic, double Potions, and Divination. Snape, Trelawney, and that Umbridge woman all in one day! Oh well, it could be worse. At least we've got the afternoon free.”

 

“My schedule is different from yours, Ron. I've been taking Ancient Runes. I don't have a free afternoon, I have double Ancient Runes instead.”

 

“Glad I didn't take that,” Ron said. “Damn, we don't have Defense Against the Dark Arts until Thursday morning!”

 

“I wonder what Sirius will be like as a teacher?” Iliana said.

 

“Yeah, it's gonna be murder waiting that long to find out. I wish Fred and George’d hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted.”

 

“Why hello there, little brother,” said one of the twins, as both began sitting down next to Ron.

 

“Hi, Fred,” Iliana said, looking right at him.

 

Fred stared at her. “How'd you know it was me?”

 

“Empath,” she said, pointing at her head. “And lots of experience with it. I can tell the two of you apart now. You have slightly different empathic auras.”

 

“Damn. That's inconvenient, isn't it George?”

 

“Right it is,” George said. “Anyway, Ron, what's this about you wanting to skip lessons?

 

“Look what we’ve got today,” said Ron grumpily, shoving his schedule under Fred’s nose. “That’s the worst Monday I’ve ever seen. Even the free afternoon doesn't really make up for it.”

 

“Fair point, little bro,” said Fred, scanning the column. “You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like.”

 

“Why’s it cheap?” said Ron suspiciously.

 

“Because you’ll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven’t got an antidote yet,” said George, helping himself to a kipper.

 

“Cheers,” said Ron moodily, pocketing his schedule, “but I think I’ll take the lessons.”

 

Hermione nudged Neville. He sighed.

 

“Fred, G-George,” he said nervously. “You c-can't test your products on students, even if you're paying them. And you can't advertise for testers on the Griffindor notice board.”

 

“Says who?” said George, looking astonished.

 

“S-says me, and Hermione,” Neville said, pointing to his Prefect badge.

 

“Oh really?” said George. “And what are you gonna back that badge up with, Sir Longbottom?”

 

Neville grinned, and with his wand he did a swish and flick at a kipper, whispering “Wingardium Leviosa.” The entire bowl of kippers flew so hard into the air that it hit the enchanted ceiling and broke, showering them with kippers, kipper juice, and broken shards of ceramic bowl.

 

Neville hastily stood up to clean the mess with his wand, but George stopped him.

 

“Neville, I'll get it. I don't want your wand thinking I'm dirt and making me vanish or get the flesh cleaned off my skeleton.”

 

Iliana heard laughter from the Slytherin table as Malfoy had seen what happened. George soon had the mess cleaned up and the broken shards gathered up.

 

“Reparo,” he said at the pile of shards, repairing the bowl with magic.

 

“Thanks, George,” Neville muttered.

 

Fred and George stood up and bowed respectfully to Neville.

 

“Prefect Longbottom, we will take the signs down by the end of the day,” they said in twin stereo. “You have our word.”

 

“Anyway,” George said as they sat down again. “You lot will be wanting Skiving Snack-boxes soon enough. It's your fifth year.”

 

“And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?” asked Hermione.

 

“Fifth year’s O.W.L. year,” said George.

 

“So?”

 

“So you’ve got your exams coming up, haven’t you? They’ll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they’ll be rubbed raw,” said Fred with satisfaction.

 

“Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to O.W.L.s,” said George happily. “Tears and tantrums … Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint. …”

 

“Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d’you remember?” said Fred reminiscently.

 

“That’s ’cause you put Bulbadox Powder in his pajamas,” said George.

 

“Oh yeah,” said Fred, grinning. “I’d forgotten. … Hard to keep track sometimes, isn’t it?”

 

“Anyway, it’s a nightmare of a year, the fifth,” said George. “If you care about exam results anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our spirits up somehow.”

 

“Yeah … you got, what was it, three O.W.L.s each?” said Ron.

 

“Yep,” said Fred unconcernedly. “But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement.”

 

“We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year,” said George brightly, “now that we’ve got —”

 

They froze as Iliana glared at them. They'd been about to mention Al gave them money from their half of the Triwizard winnings.

 

“— now that we’ve got our O.W.L.s,” George said hastily. “I mean, do we really need N.E.W.T.s? But we didn’t think Mum could take us leaving school early, not on top of Percy turning out to be the world’s biggest prat.”

 

“We’re not going to waste our last year here, though,” said Fred, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. “We’re going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from his joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, and then produce the products to fit the demand.”

 

“But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?” asked Hermione skeptically. “You’re going to need all the ingredients and materials — and premises too, I suppose.”

 

Iliana did not look at the twins. Her face felt hot; she deliberately dropped her fork and dived down to retrieve it. She heard Fred say overhead, “Ask us no questions and we’ll tell you no lies, Hermione. C’mon, George, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before Herbology.”

 

“What did that mean?” said Hermione, looking from Iliana to Ron. “ ‘Ask us no questions …’ Does that mean they’ve already got some gold to start a joke shop?”

 

Ron shrugged. “I dunno. But I suppose if they're selling their products at school, they might be getting gold that way.”

 

“Yes, but enough to fund premises?”

 

Iliana decided it was time to steer the conversation out of these dangerous waters.

 

“D’you reckon it’s true this year’s going to be really tough? Because of the exams?”

 

“Oh yeah,” said Ron. “Bound to be, isn’t it? O.W.L.s are really important, affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice too, later this year, Bill told me. So you can choose what N.E.W.T.s you want to do next year.”

 

“D’you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?” Iliana asked the other three, as they left the Great Hall shortly afterward and set off toward their History of Magic classroom.

 

“Not really,” said Ron slowly. “Except … well …”

 

He looked slightly sheepish.

 

“What?” Iliana urged him.

 

“Well, it’d be cool to be an Auror,” said Ron in an offhand voice.

 

“My mum and dad were Aurors,” said Neville. “Gran would probably want me to be one, too.”

 

“No offense to your Gran, Neville, but she needs to stop trying to recreate her son in you and just let you do what you want. What do YOU want to do after Hogwarts?”

 

“Er... well... I'd like to raise magical plants professionally, start my own supply company. I've also been experimenting with different fertilizer mixes, trying to create the perfect blend. That'd be big business if I can manage it.”

 

“I think you'll do brilliantly at that, Neville,” Iliana said.

 

“What about you, Iliana? What do you and the others want to do for a career?”

 

“I dunno. Maybe play Quidditch professionally for a while. But we'd need a fall-back career. Um...”

 

She had almost said that Hypatia would want to be a ward master, ward-cracker, or even a curse-breaker.

 

“Um... I think it'd be cool to be a curse-breaker.”

 

“Well you're taking Ancient Runes,” Hermione said, “so that's good. And you're good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, despite the curse on the position.”

 

“You'd need to take Arithmancy, though,” Neville said. “I know because I was reading about Aurors, and curse-breaker is a related career. But you aren't taking Arithmancy.”

 

“Er... that's because I've been taking it as a self-study,” she said.

 

“You have? Are you going to take your Arithmancy O.W.L. then?”

 

[Yes, I am,] Hypatia informed her.

 

“Yes, I am,” Iliana said aloud.

 

“Well you need an N.E.W.T. in it, too. Which you can only take if you get at least an Acceptable on your O.W.L.,” Hermione said.

 

After a moment of thought, Iliana said, “I also wouldn't mind being a professional Potioneer.”

 

“P-potions?” Neville said, sounding terrified. “Really?”

 

She shrugged. “Yeah, Snape's been okay around me lately. Still doesn't like Al or Zoey, but he's fine around me.”

 

She stopped there, not wanting to reveal she was taking private lessons with him.

 

“Huh. Well okay,” Neville said, sounding like he thought she was a bit mad for that.

 

~

 

When they entered the History of Magic classroom they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teacher’s desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. Iliana was again reminded forcibly of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad.

 

The class was quiet as it entered the room; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew yet how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.

 

“Well, good afternoon!” she said when finally the whole class had sat down.

 

A few people mumbled “Good afternoon,” in reply.

 

“Tut, tut,” said Professor Umbridge. “That won’t do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.’ One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!”

 

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” they chanted back at her.

 

“There, now,” said Professor Umbridge sweetly. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.”

 

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order “wands away” had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Iliana shoved her wand back inside her bag and pulled out quill, ink, and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

 

_History of Magic: An Unbiased Look_

 

'Well this doesn't bode well,' Adira thought at the others.

 

[No it doesn't,] Hypatia thought, [since there's no such thing as an unbiased history.]

 

“Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn’t it?” stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. “Years of sub-standard teaching by a very boring ghost first, and then you were taught by a werewolf.”

 

“What?” Dean said, alarmed. “No we weren't! We were taught by Professor Lupin!”

 

“I did not see your hand, Mr. Thomas. We raise our hand when we wish to speak in this class.”

 

Dean and several other people raised their hands. She called on Seamus.

 

“Whadda ya mean 'taught by a werewolf'? Professor Umbridge,” he hastened to add.

 

Umbridge grinned maliciously. “Well you see, Mr. Finnigan, the Ministry recently passed a law protecting children from being taught by dangerous beasts like Professor Lupin, who is on the werewolf reg--”

 

“Professor Lupin isn't dangerous!” Iliana said.

 

Professor Umbridge turned to Iliana. “Mr. Potter, I did not see your hand.”

 

“Who are you talking to?” Iliana said. “I'm not a Mister. I'm a Ms.”

 

Ignoring Iliana, Umbridge said, “As I was saying, our country has a registry of all known werewolves, and Mr. Lupin is on that registry. Therefore, when the new legislation passed, he was fired from his position as History Professor, where he can no longer warp the minds and threaten the bodies of innocent young souls such as yourselves.”

 

There was a lot of muttering about this, but since nobody was talking very loudly, she turned back to the board and ignored the mutters.

 

“As I was saying before these interruptions, your previous teachers were a boring ghost who turned this lesson into a joke among the students, and then he was replaced by a dangerous criminal who--”

 

“Lupin was not a criminal!” Iliana had stood up to say this, but she wasn't in control. Before Umbridge's eyes, she became Adira instead.

 

“Mister Lupin was a werewolf, Mr. Potter, and as such--”

 

“Being a werewolf doesn't make him a criminal. It makes him ill. He was perfectly nice and safe 28 days out of the month, and the school board knew as well as Dumbledore that he was a werewolf, they had him hidden safely away from students during the full moon!”

 

“Ten points from Griffindor, Mister Potter, and if you do not sit down and be quiet, I shall have to put you in detention for disrupting the class!”

 

“Stop calling me 'Mister'! I am not a boy! If Al or Chandra or Tier were here now, then you'd be right. But Iliana, Zoey, and I are girls!”

 

“Oh indeed? So then the history books are wrong, are they, when they call you the _boy_ who lived?”

 

“Yes, actually, they are in fact wrong on that point.”

 

“So you are questioning facts, are you?”

 

“I don't dispute what they call me in the history books. But when they call me a boy, they're wrong. I've never been a boy.”

 

“ God does not make mistakes, Mister Potter.”

 

“I don't believe in God, and even if I did, it's not God who made the mistake, it was the Healers who labeled me by the wrong gender.”

 

“Mister Potter, according to Ministry records, you are a boy named Mr. Harry James Potter. Presumably this means you were born with... certain attributes... that caused you to be properly labeled as a baby boy.”

 

“Your information is wrong. I got a name and gender change summer before last. Those 'certain attributes' are no longer true for me. But we were talking about Professor Lupin.”

 

“Yes. And you have been disrupting class, Mr. Potter. I did warn you not to do that. So I shall see you in detention.  Tomorrow evening at five o'clock. My office. ”

 

“Maybe there wouldn't be any disruptions if you didn't say things that are blatantly false!”

 

Professor Umbridge grew very cold all of a sudden. “Mr. Potter, it is not I who has a problem telling taradiddles. That is your issue, telling people that  a certain  deceased dark lord ha s returned from the grave--”

 

“ Voldemort never properly died. His powers just broke, and he was only recently able to repair them. I saw him, and so did Cedric Diggory!  We fought him! But you and Fudge have your heads so far up your own arses that  you can see your own tonsils! ”

 

At Voldemort's name,  Ron  had gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Adira with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.

 

“MISTER POTTER! Please come to the front of the class.”

 

Angrily, Adira stormed to the front of the class.

 

Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink, and started scribbling, hunched over so that  Adira could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that  s he could not open it.

 

“Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear,” said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him.

 

Sh e took it from  the evil woman without saying a word,  grabbed her bag, and left the room, not even looking back at Ron and Hermione, and slamming the classroom door shut behind  her .  Sh e walked very fast along the corridor, the note to McGonagall clutched tight in  her hand, and turning a corner walked slap into Peeves the Poltergeist, a wide-faced little man floating on his back in midair, juggling several inkwells.

 

“Why, it’s Potty Wee Potter!” cackled Peeves, allowing two of the inkwells to fall to the ground where they smashed and spattered the walls with ink;  Adira jumped backward out of the way with a snarl.

 

“Get out of it, Peeves.”

 

“Oooh, Crackpot’s feeling cranky,” said Peeves, pursuing  Adira along the corridor, leering as he zoomed along above  her . “What is it this time, my fine Potty friend? Hearing voices? Seeing visions? Speaking in” — Peeves blew a gigantic raspberry — “tongues?”

 

“I said, leave me ALONE!”  Adira shouted, running down the nearest flight of stairs, but Peeves merely slid down the banister on his back beside  her .

 

“Oh, most think  they're barking, the Potty  pipsqueak ,

But some are more kindly and think they're unique,

But Peevesy knows better and says that they're a freak —”

 

“ LANGLOCK!” she shouted the incantation, pointing a finger and only then realizing she still had her wand in her bag. But the spell worked anyway, Peeves's tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. He took off flying away from Adira.  She felt satisfaction at this; nobody called her the f-word and got away with it. The rage she'd felt at that, Peeves was lucky she didn't know any spells to destroy poltergeists.

 

A door to her left flew open and Professor McGonagall emerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed.

 

“What on earth are you shouting about, Potter?” she snapped, as Peeves  angrily zoomed out of sight. “Why aren’t you in class?”

 

“I’ve been sent to see you,” said  Adira stiffly.

 

“Sent? What do you mean, sent?”

 

Sh e held o ut the note from Professor Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from  her , frowning, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out, and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower.

 

“Come in here, Potter.”

 

She followed McGonagall inside her study. The door closed automatically behind her.

 

“Well?” said Professor McGonagall, rounding on him. “Is this true?”

 

“No idea. Between Professor Umbridge being a liar and the fact it's sealed, I don't know what it says. She didn't let me see what she'd written.”

 

“Is it true that you told Professor Umbridge that she and Fudge had their heads up their arses?”

 

“Yes, Professor.”

 

“ Is it true you disrupted class?”

 

“Dean started it. She was outing Professor Lupin and calling him a dangerous beast, implying he'd been here to hurt kids and outright saying he was warping our minds. Then she kept mis-gendering me, so I corrected her on that. But yes, I suppose I was being disruptive.”

 

“Did you call her a liar?”

 

“Not in so many words, but yes, I said she was saying false things.”

 

“You told her He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, frowning at  Adira . Then she said, “Have a biscuit, Potter.”

 

“Have — what?”

 

“Have a biscuit,” she repeated impatiently, indicating a tartan tin of cookies lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. “And sit down.”

 

Confused, she sat down and took a Ginger Newt.

 

Professor McGonagall set down Professor Umbridge’s note and looked very seriously at Adira.

 

“Potter, you need to be careful.”

 

Adira swallowed her mouthful of Ginger Newt and stared at her. Her tone of voice was not at all what Adira was used to; it was not brisk, crisp, and stern; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual.

 

“Misbehavior in Dolores Umbridge’s class could cost you much more than House points and a detention.”

 

“What do you — ?”

 

“Potter, use your common sense,” snapped Professor McGonagall, with an abrupt return to her usual manner. “You know where she comes from, you must know to whom she is reporting.”

 

The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.

 

“It says here she’s given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow,” Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge’s note again.

 

“Every evening this week! But I need to schedule tryouts! I was hoping to ask you about scheduling them this coming Saturday. Can't you do anything to overrule her?”

 

“No I cannot. Listen, Potter; Fudge's support is fading. He's fighting a losing battle between you and Cedric and Dumbledore all saying the same thing. But he can still make life difficult for you before he's ousted. More importantly, Professor Umbridge can make your life very difficult. And for now, she has the might of the Ministry behind her. So do be careful. Keep your head down in her classes and your mouth shut.”

 

“I---”

 

“I mean it, Potter. Channel your inner Slytherin if you must – yes, I know you almost got picked for that, and no the Hat didn't tattle; the headmaster told me. But I mean it; keep quiet, keep a low profile until Fudge and Umbridge are gone. I doubt they'll last to the end of the year at this rate. Can you do that?”

 

“ But--”

 

“She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o’clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember: Tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge.”

 

“So I just let her smear Lupin and tell lies about Voldemort?”

 

“Yes, Potter, you do. She's in power for now. Fighting her directly is pointless. And I expect you to be ready to have Quidditch tryouts the Saturday after next. I will be scheduling them for that time, and if you don't find some way to be there, to avoid being in detention next week, then I will strip you – Iliana, I mean – of the Captaincy and give it to someone else. Someone not in your lot. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

 

Adira deflated. “Yes, Professor McGonagall.”

 

“Good.  Now have another biscuit and go on to your next class. Here is a note, in case you are late.”

 

“ It's a double period,”  Adira reminded her.

 

“Then go back to History of Magic and keep your head down and your mouth shut in her class for the foreseeable future.”

 

“ Yes, I'll do that ,” she said, taking another Ginger Newt.

 

[And I'll help you, I suppose,] Hypatia told her in her head.  [Can't have these detentions messing with my own  free  time.]

 

'Thanks.'

 

~

 

Dinner that night wasn't pleasant for Adira. Everyone was talking about Professor Lupin and how he was a werewolf, or else talking about how Adira had called Umbridge a liar and said You-Know-Who was back,  and/or about how they were mad.  The funny thing was that none of the whisperers seemed to mind  her overhearing what they were saying about her — on the contrary, it was as though they were hoping she would get angry and start correcting people again, so that they could hear the story firsthand.

 

“ Potter reckons she and Diggory dueled You-Know-Who!”

 

“Yeah, she reckons he never properly died, was just weak and hiding all these years!”

 

“So where is he now, then? If he was back, there'd be no doubt! He'd be killing people! It'd be war!”

 

“Come off it.”

 

“Who does she think she’s kidding?”

 

“Puh-lease!”

 

She just ignored the whispers, trying to practice keeping her mouth shut. She'd managed the second half of History of Magic by grinding her teeth whenever Umbitch said something that was a nasty lie, which was frequently. It was plain Umbridge was trying to goad her so she could punish them even more for being liars.

 

Hypatia had helped, too. Whenever Umbridge had asked her questions directly, Hypatia had answered for them. Umbridge had looked disappointed that they weren't taking the bait.  That disappointment had been mildly satisfying.

 

Not satisfying enough to make up for the rest of the class, though. Umbridge had laid out her course aims, and it looked like the whole course was going to be her talking about how non-human sentient beings were all dangerous beasts, giving all sorts of  historical  justification for why goblins and centaurs and so on had subhuman intellects and were all violent monsters. She 'd already implied that the only reason Goblins didn't murder every human in the world was they were outnumbered by  good pure-blooded  wizards and witches working to keep the darkness at bay.

 

“Fudge must be better at being a politician than we thought,” she commented, “if he's still got people convinced we're lying. Of course, I suppose having full control over the country's only newspaper helps.”

 

“ I want to know how Dumbledore let this happen,” Hermione said. “How is that woman a teacher? Surely there are other, better teachers for History of Magic.”

 

“Not in this country,” Adira said. “Binns was teaching here for so long even Sirius remembers him, so there's at least two generations of magicals in this country taught to hate history. Almost makes me wonder if Voldemort cursed that position, too.”

 

“ Whadda ya mean?” Ron asked.

 

“'Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it,'” she quoted. “ And Voldemort is like Grindlewald all over again, isn't he?”

 

“Oh. Yeah, I can see that.”

 

Silently, she wondered what Voldemort's status was. Had he been killed and resurrected again yet?  Snape had said Bellatrix was convinced of the necessity of starting over, and that they had a couple months at best before he was back to full power.

 

In the common room later, they saw the twins looking annoyed at Neville from where they sat. But the signs were down, and it didn't look like the twins were doing anything more than talking with each other at one of the tables.

 

“ Wow. I guess I'm better at this Prefect stuff than I thought I'd be.”

 

“Yes. But what's the reckoning the twins will just get better at hiding their rule breaking?”

 

“I dunno, Adira, but I'm going to keep trying to get them in line.”

 

'We've created a monster,' Adira thought of Neville with amusement.

 

~

 

In Charms the next day, Professor Flitwick helped Neville learn how to restrict the amount of magic he put into his spells, since he no longer needed to be overcompensating for a wand that didn't suit him. By the end of the lesson, Neville was making good progress on that front.

 

The teachers were starting to lecture on the importance of the O.W.L.s. After helping Neville, Flitwick had started in on that, mentioning their future careers. Then they'd revised a lot.  McGonagall gave a similar lecture about O.W.L.s and careers ,  then had them start  on Vanishing spells. By the end of the double period, only Hermione and Neville had managed to Vanish their snails, which had most everyone in the class even more impressed with him than they'd been earlier in Charms when he'd sent every book in the room flying at him, being saved from death by bludgeoning or paper-cuts by Hermione's quick thinking  with a Banishing Charm  at the last second .  For the first time that anyone could remember, Neville had no homework in Transfiguration, due to his success with the snail.

 

At lunch, Adira and Ron joined Hermione in the library, the former two slightly panicky about the amount of homework they had to do. By the time they reached Care of Magical Creatures, Adira had a headache.

 

The day had become cool and breezy, and, as they walked down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid’s cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they felt the occasional drop of rain on their faces. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid’s front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with many twigs. As the trio reached her, from behind they heard Draco Malfoy and his two troll-like bodyguards laughing about something. Adira sighed. She just was so tired of all the drama between the two of them.  She tried her best to ignore  him and his bookends .

 

On the table, the twigs turned out to be pixie-ish creatures called Bowtruckles, which looked like humanoid stick bugs and ate wood lice or fairy eggs if they could get them.  They would have to feed them wood lice and make drawings of them with body parts labeled.

 

The class surged forward around the trestle table. Addy deliberately circled around the back so that she ended up right next to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

 

“Where’s Hagrid?” she asked the teacher, while everyone else was choosing bowtruckles.

 

“Never you mind,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank repressively, which had been her attitude last time Hagrid had failed to turn up for a class too. Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Addy and seized the largest bowtruckle.

 

Addy probed the professor with her empathic sense, but didn't get anything really useful from that, so she just grabbed a bowtruckle.

 

“Maybe,” said Malfoy in an undertone, so that only Addy could hear him, “the stupid great oaf’s got himself badly injured.”

 

Addy sighed. “Why do you keep trying to pick fights with us, Malfoy? When has that ever gone well for you?”

 

Malfoy glared at her briefly, then smirked at her. “ Maybe the oaf's been messing with stuff that’s too  _big_ for him, if you get my drift.”

 

“Malfoy, I genuinely am tired of the drama between us. Can you maybe just mind your own business for once in your life rather than try to goad me all the time?”

 

( Maybe he fancies you, ) Al thought at her.  ( He's always seemed a bit too keen on getting your attention. Maybe he's of the opinion that any attention is better than none. )

 

'I hope you're wrong about that, Al,' she thought back.

 

“Why shouldn't I?” Malfoy said. “Every time you attack me is more ammunition for the day I finally decide to strike and press charges.”

 

“Listen, I've been thinking about that over the summer, and I'm sorry. We're all sorry, for the things we've done to you over the years. We got carried away and escalated things in our anger. We're trying to be better now. It would be a lot easier to do that if you would stop trying to goad us. Truce?”

 

He smirked at her. “You're only saying that because I'm blackmailing you.”

 

She sighed. “That's not what blackmailing is. Too many other people know about all that for it to be blackmailing.  And anyway, your threat doesn't worry me.  No, I am 100% serious about this Malfoy: we genuinely are sorry for going overboard, and scaring you, getting you in trouble,  embarrassing you, and hurting you over the years. Would you believe I really want a truce if I swore on my magic to that effect?”

 

Malfoy looked suspicious and disbelieving, but the offer of a magical oath had given him pause.

 

“ A magical oath, you say? You'd really do something as... as risky as swearing on your magic to not attack me?”

 

“We'd have to word the oath to avoid you taking advantage of it. I'd swear to not attack first, and that if you attack me, I only attack with equal or lesser force than you attacked me with. You know, no longer escalating. But I'd want something from you, too. A promise you'll stop goading me.”

 

He sneered. “You want me to swear on my magic to that? You're mad if you think I'd do that.”

 

“Nothing so extreme as that. There are lesser oaths, right? Oaths that cause you pain to break them but don't risk your magic and don't cause any permanent harm, right? It'd be a motivation to encourage you to be less of an arse, but it wouldn't be anything too onerous to break.”

 

“Hmm... it's a decent offer. But I do kind of like goading you, even at the risk of being attacked.”

 

“Are you some kind of masochist?”

 

“No. It's just fun getting you angry. And I keep hoping you'll get in trouble. But since that doesn't seem to be happening, I---”

 

“Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Potter, what are you two doing? This is no time for talking, you need to be drawing your bowtruckles,” chided Grubbly-Plank.

 

“We'll talk later, Potter,” Malfoy promised.

 

“Indeed. Temporary truce for now?”

 

“Twenty-four hours sound good?”

 

“Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Potter, I'm warning you both!”

 

“One moment, Professor.” He turned back to Addy. “Acceptable?”

 

“Yes. Agreed.”

 

They shook on it, then went back to their work.

 

[ A step in the right direction,] Hypatia thought at them. [I approve.]

 

When returning to Ron and Hermione, Add y told them that she'd offered a truce, and  Malfoy had accepted a temporary one until they could hash out a longer term one. Ron, predictably, didn't trust Malfoy. She assured him she'd remain wary, which seemed to help.

 

Then, to change the subject, she mentioned what Malfoy had said before her truce offer, about Hagrid. They were all agreed it meant Malfoy knew about Hagrid's mission to the giants, but they couldn't decide if he knew where Hagrid was now or not.

 

As they left Care of Magical Creatures, they caught Ginny and Luna coming out of one of the greenhouses.  Luna had  a smudge of earth on her nose and her hair tied in a knot on the top of her head. She immediately made a beeline for Addy.

 

“Hi Ginny, hi Luna!”

 

“ Hey Addy,” Ginny said brightly.

 

“ Hello, Addy,” Luna said, sounding faintly disappointed. “Say hello to Iliana for me, please?”

 

“ Okay.  She says 'hi, Luna, and...'” Addy trailed off,  her cheeks turning red . “I'm not saying that, Iliana.”

 

“Saying what?” Luna asked.

 

Addy's cheeks turned red der at having spoken that last bit aloud . “Er... okay fine, she wants  me  to say 'kisses and hugs' from her.”

 

Luna brightened. “Kisses and hugs back to you as well, Iliana.”  Then she blew a kiss in Addy's direction. Addy felt her left arm reach out to 'catch' the blown kiss.

 

“Right. She heard it. You er, do know she can hear you pretty much any time any of the rest of us are driving, right?”

 

“I know. It was just an expression.”

 

“ Oh.  Okay.”

 

“ Anyway, I really wanted to say before all these witnesses that I believe you and Cedric Diggory about You-Know-Who being back.”

 

“Thanks, Luna.”

 

“Ha!” scoffed someone Addy didn't recognize. “Like the belief of a madwoman counts for anything! Especially since she's your girlfriend.”

 

Ernie Macmillan stepped forward in front of the stranger and said, “I want you to know, Potter,” he said in a loud, carrying voice, “that it’s not only wei-- er... people with unconventional beliefs who support you. I personally believe you one hundred percent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I.”

 

“Er — thanks very much, Ernie,” said Addy, taken aback but pleased. Ernie might be pompous on occasions like these, but Addy was in a mood to deeply appreciate a vote of confidence from somebody who was a lot more respected in the school than Luna was. Iliana loved Luna, and Addy liked Luna as a friend, but her public support really wasn't worth much, they had to admit.  Though if even Luna didn't believe them, that would have gone a long way against them, come to that.

 

Ernie’s words had certainly wiped the smile from Lavender Brown’s face, which was good.

 

“Aye,” said Seamus, who was there too. “And you've got my support as well.”

 

“Me too,” said Dean. “Honestly, the Ministry is losing ground quickly. Two witnesses, I don't know why they're bothering to deny it.”

 

This got a lot of people talking, and by the sound of it, they'd forgotten about Cedric. Apparently a summer's worth of propaganda could make people forget important details like that.

 

To nobody’s surprise, Professor Sprout started their lesson by lecturing them about the importance of O.W.L.s. Addy wished all the teachers would stop doing this; she was starting to get an anxious, twisted feeling in her stomach every time she remembered how much homework she had to do, a feeling that worsened dramatically when Professor Sprout gave them yet another essay at the end of class. Tired and smelling strongly of dragon dung, Professor Sprout’s preferred brand of fertilizer, the Griffindors trooped back up to the castle an hour and a half later, none of them talking very much; it had been another long day.

 

As Addy was starving, and she had her first detention with Umbridge at five o’clock, she headed straight for dinner without dropping off her bag in Gryffindor Tower so that she could bolt something down before facing whatever Umbridge had in store for her. She had barely reached the entrance of the Great Hall, however, when a loud and angry voice said, “Oy, Potter!”

 

“What now?” she muttered wearily, turning to face Angelina Johnson, who looked as though she was in a towering temper.

 

“I’ll tell you what now,” she said, marching straight up to her and poking her hard in the shoulder with her finger. “How come you’ve landed yourself in detention for five o’clock on Friday?”

 

“Oh, the tryouts. I'm sorry, I didn't do it on purpose. McGonagall's already yelled at us about it, we'll be good in her class from now on.”

 

“I hope so! I don't want us to lose because you couldn't keep your temper in her class!”

 

“Why do you care so much?”

 

“Because I like Quidditch, and I was looking forward to tryouts this weekend! Also, it's my final year!”

 

“Right. Anyway, I'm hoping to have them Saturday after next. McGonagall scheduled them for then, and told us that if we're in detention that weekend, someone else will be Captain.”

 

“Good. And while you're at it, if you could stop attacking people who annoy you, that would be nice. We don't need you getting detentions from anyone, not just her.”

 

Addy sighed. “Yeah, okay, I already know we've been kind of horrible but we've never attacked anyone just because they annoyed us. If we did, we'd have attacked most of the students in the school.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Oh I dunno, the year that everyone thought I was the Heir of Slytherin for no other reason than I'm a Parselmouth comes to mind. So does 'Support the real Hogwarts Champion' last year. No, the only people we've attacked were Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Skeeter. We shouldn't have done it, it was escalation, but saying that we attack anyone who annoys us is patently false!”

 

“Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist.”

 

“I'll try to calm down,” Addy said. “In that vein, when we do get the chance to do tryouts, I'm trying out people for alternates as well. And if anyone proves to be better than the main players, well... let's just say everyone's positions on the team aren't so assured anymore.”

 

Angelina looked shocked, then a little worried and sad.

 

“Is this some kind of punishment? Look, I'm sorry I--”

 

“It's not punishment. It's just something Wood should have done. The alternates, at the very least. Someone knocks out one of our players and we have to either play on without them or we lose or forfeit, and that's no good at all. As to checking for better players, well that's just a good idea. I don't think we're going to find anyone better than you and the other chasers, and I find it unlikely anyone could even equal the Weasley twins at Beating, but,” she shrugged. “Gotta try, cuz you never know.”

 

Angelina seemed happier at this. “Good to hear. I'll let the others from last year's team know.”

 

“Right. And I'll try to work out a time to get Luna's help on those signs. For now, I need to eat before my detention.”

 

“Okay. See you later, Addy.”

 

Adira waved back vaguely as she started to wolf down food with an undignified haste that would have made Ron embarrassed. In fact, Ron did indeed look embarrassed at her.

 

“You know, you should ask Umbridge to let you off on Friday, so you can get tryouts done sooner.”

 

“Oh yes, and give her more ammunition. She's already very Snape-like in her loathing of me, I'm not giving her something else to lord over me. You saw her face, she was positively delighted to punish me. Anything that makes me unhappy gives her glee. I know the type all too well. So no, I won't be asking her that.”

 

Ron shrugged. “Whatever.”

 

Addy swallowed a mouthful of potato and added, “I hope she doesn’t keep me too long this evening. You realize we’ve got to write three essays, practice Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, work out a countercharm for Flitwick, finish the bowtruckle drawing, and start that stupid dream diary for Trelawney? I've also got Ancient Runes homework.”

 

Ron moaned and for some reason glanced up at the ceiling.

 

“And it looks like it’s going to rain.”

 

“What’s that got to do with our homework?” said Hermione, her eyebrows raised.

 

“Nothing,” said Ron at once, his ears reddening.

 

Addy got up from the table and left for her detention, thinking about who would be best to have in the driver's seat for the detention. Al was too hot-headed, she hoped he'd be shoved down into the Basement during this. She didn't trust herself, Zoey, Iliana, or Tier to do it either. Hypatia was still a secret, and Mother had never come Out. That left the hilarious option of Chandra.

 

Shaking her head and grinning, she switched places with Chandra, the body transforming to conform to Chandra's self-image.

 

Chandra calmly made the trek down to Umbridge's office and knocked on it. When he knocked on the door she said, “Come in,” in a sugary voice. He entered cautiously, looking around.

 

The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Chandra stared at them, transfixed, until Professor Umbridge spoke again.

 

'It is as though the God of Cuteness was violently ill from both ends,' Chandra thought to himself.

 

When he came into view, Umbridge's sadistic happiness that tainted the air soured into confusion.

 

“Who are you?”

 

He looked around, and didn't see the source of the voice.

 

“I wonder the same thing of you, disembodied voice.”

 

She stood up, which he only noticed because he spotted the movement out of the corner of his eye; she really was absurdly short. He had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.

 

“I am Chandra Rahasyamay, of the Collective of Potter. Are you Dolores Umbridge?”

 

She glared at him. Then the glare became a girlish grin. “Well, I am glad to see you are back to your proper gender presentation at least, Mr. Potter.”

 

'She presumes much,' he thought.

 

What he said, instead, was, “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate.”

 

Umbridge looked very confused at this,  then angry. In her sweetest, little-girliest voice, she said, “Please speak English, Mr. Potter.”

 

He waved her concern away. “It is ashes in a hurricane.”

 

Apparently not knowing what to say to this, she opted to ignore it instead.

 

“Well, sit down,” she said, pointing toward a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for him.

 

Chandra sat down and looked at her. “I await thy instruction, milady.”

 

Looking conflicted about his use of archaic language for a moment,  probably trying to decide if he was being sarcastic or not,  she ignored that.

 

“You are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr. Potter. No, not with YOUR quill,” she added, as Chandra bent down to open his bag. “You’re going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are.”

 

She handed him a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point. He took it in his right hand, which for him was his off hand. She didn't notice a momentary blank look in his eyes upon touching the black quill. Nor would she have known the significance of this if she had. He set it down on the table in front of himself.

 

“I want you to write ‘I must not tell lies,’ ” she told him softly.

 

“I am incapable of falsehoods. Silence I can do, but to tell a falsehood is anathema to my nature. I can only tell a falsehood if I believe the information to be true.”

 

“There you go telling lies again, Mr. Potter. Everyone can lie, lying is not against anyone's nature, so--”

 

“Including yours?” he asked.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“If your position is that lying is in everyone's nature, it logically follows that lying is in your nature as well. And the Minister's, as well.”

 

Her face turned red as she glared at him. But instead of shouting at him, she calmed down and smiled in that falsely sweet way of hers.

 

“What I meant to say is that all children and teenagers can and do lie. But that is beside the point, I--”

 

“'Beside the point'?  Something said here is parallel to your point? I have never understood that aphorism. If something is beside the point, it is parallel to the point. And another aphorism is 'drawing parallels' between things, meaning finding similarities  between them . If  something either you or I said is  ' beside the point, ' then logically it must be parallel to the point, and thus relevant to the point.”

 

Umbridge closed her eyes as though summoning patience, then opened them, her grin distinctly forced now. “ I meant that this is... not the point. The point is that you are here to be punished for telling lies, and so--”

 

“You think I am lying? Well I can understand that. You do work with politicians all day long. But I am willing to testify under Veritaserum to the truth of Voldemort being back in power. Surely this will ease your worries about my veracity?”

 

She stared at him, utterly at a loss for words.

 

“I am also willing to provide Pensieve memories of the event, so you may witness it yourself.”

 

Umbridge turned around and made quite a big deal of looking for something. If his read of her emotions was accurate, what she was looking for was an excuse to think of a way out of the corner she'd painted herself into,  with his help .

 

Chandra was no idiot; he knew full well she didn't really want the truth. What she wanted was for him to comply with Fudge's version of the truth, for whatever reason.  And unless she thought of something really clever to get herself out of this dilemma, she would now have to admit that to him . At the same time, she had to know she and Fudge were losing ground. The winds would shift eventually, were already shifting, and she had to choose whether or not to go along with Fudge's denial or instead find a way to make Fudge come out of this whole debacle smelling like a rose.

 

Finally, she turned back to him, smiling in a way that he knew meant bad news.

 

“Mr. Potter, you are here to be punished for calling me a liar, and for using a foul word when you told me that I and the Minister had our heads up our... well... bottoms.”

 

“That was Adira Potter, not me. But I can bring her forward to apologize to you. What she said was in the heat of anger, and we have been trying to be better about controlling our anger.”

 

“Mr. Potter, while your offer of an apology is appreciated, you are still here to be punished. And punished you shall be.”

 

“Why?”

 

“'Why?' What do you mean, 'why'?”

 

Chandra paused a moment, considering the sarcastic response, but instead said, “Is not the point of punishment to correct misbehavior? And is not the first step in that correction getting the individual to understand that what they did was wrong? I have admitted we were wrong, and apologized on behalf of the others. Does this not negate the need for punishment?”

 

“ MR. POTTER! I am not here to have philosophical discussions with you. I am here to punish you for your misbehavior in class. Even if you are repentant, which I doubt, it would not hurt to let the point sink in a bit more. So enough back sass! You will take this quill I have given you, and you will write, 'I must not tell lies,' until the message has sunken in.”

 

“ Should I take this to mean you do not wish to know the truth? I have, after all, offered to tell the truth under Veritaserum, and offered Pensieve memories.”

 

Umbridge was rubbing her face with two balled fists, her eyes closed. Waves of frustration radiated from her like a burning heat.

 

Finally she stopped and said, “In that case, you will write, instead, 'I must maintain the status quo.'”

 

Chandra's head turned to the side like a curious bird or dog. “Why?”

 

“BECAUSE I TOLD YOU TO! Now DO IT!”

 

Chandra tried to think of what to say or do next. He could comply, and calm her down, or he could continue to irritate her in the hopes she would kick him out of the office. He preferred the latter option, but there was a risk of her giving him even more detention. However, if he made her so irritated with him that she never wanted to see him again if she could help it, she might not do that.

 

“ I'm not sure I understand the point of this exercise. Again, punishment is supposed to correct misbehavior, but you have failed to provide a logical destination for your correction of my behavior. What precisely do you mean by 'status quo'? The status quo these last few months has been Dumbledore, myself, and Cedric Diggory telling everyone about Voldemort being back and the Ministry trying to suppress that knowledge. By that logic, I should continue to tell my side of the story, in order to maintain the status quo.”

 

Umbridge was gripping her desk so hard her hands were white. He could hear her grinding her teeth. His own face remained, as it had through this whole encounter, impassive.

 

“Alright then,” she said through gritted teeth. “Then write 'I will not contradict my teachers.'”

 

“ Why that phrase?”

 

“Because contradicting teachers is disrespecting them. And for someone as detail-oriented as yourself, Mr. Potter, is is far less likely you'll be able to twist my meaning to your own ends.”

 

“Ah yes, that does make much more sense. Thank you for the clarification, Professor Umbridge.”

 

He picked up the thin black quill with his left hand, of course. She noticed this at once.

 

“Correct me if I am wrong,” she said, feeling like she was lying about that desire, “but I thought you were right-handed, Mr. Potter?”

 

“Oh, the others are all dexter. I am not. I assure you, it is the only thing sinister about me.” The corner of his mouth twitched as he said this.

 

She sighed. Then, looking at the quill again, she smiled evilly. “You may proceed, then, Mr. Potter.”

 

He pulled the parchment underneath the quill, arranging it for writing with his left hand. Then he paused.

 

“You haven't provided me any ink, Professor.”

 

Her grin grew even more malevolent. “You won't need ink with this pen, Mr. Potter.”

 

“Ah, a self-inking pen. How considerate of you, Professor Umbridge.”

 

Once more he prepared to write the lines she'd assigned.  Then he paused again. “How many times shall I write it?”

 

“Until I tell you to stop, Mr. Potter.”

 

“I see. Well please do not keep me too long, I have homework and studying to complete.”

 

“Just write until I tell you to stop. And no more procrastination!”

 

He put the quill to the parchment, but again paused.

 

“What if something a teacher says or writes on the board is a mistake? Am I to allow the mistake to sit there, staring at me? What if a teacher demands to know why I allowed a mistake to remain unremarked upon?”

 

She smiled sweetly. “If you do not start writing what I told you to write, Mr. Potter, I shall have to give you a month's worth of detentions.”

 

“A thousand apologies, Professor Umbridge.”

 

He once more set the quill to the parchment. He paused, mainly because he knew it would drive her batty, and when he felt the spike of irritation from her, he finally started to write  'I must not contradict my teachers . '  She watched him eagerly, waiting for a reaction.

 

As he knew it would from the moment he touched it – thus feeling every enchantment that lay upon it – the quill cut into the skin on his right hand with magic, and wrote the line out in blood. Having been prepared for this  with occlumency , he gave no reaction at all to this. For all that could be judged by his face  or other body language , it might as well have been a perfectly normal self-inking quill.  Only someone as skilled at reading body language as Alastair would have been able to spot the minuscule subconscious 'tells.'

 

Umbridge continued watching him, and every moment that passed without a reaction from him deepened her confusion and disappointment, he could feel her emotions as thick on the air as fresh-cooked bacon smelled to a dog.  The quill hurt, of course; but much h arder to control than his reaction to the pain of the blood quill was his  amused  reaction to her frustration, anger, and confusion at his lack of reaction.  He couldn't tell a falsehood, that much was true, but body language didn't count.

 

“Mr. Potter,” she interrupted him after ten minutes.

 

He looked up. “Yes, Professor?”

 

“Do you not notice anything... unusual... about the quill? Or the ink it uses?”

 

His face showed a confusion he didn't feel, and he looked perplexedly at the quill and ink as though trying to work out what she was going on about. After a few moments, he spoke again, confusion in his voice.

 

“Well now that you mention it, Professor Umbridge, it is a bit dark red. Is it perhaps the quill you use to correct homework and tests?”

 

Her confusion and anger were mounting, but he still did not let on what he was sensing from her, nor his own feelings.

 

“No, Mr. Potter, it is not the quill I use to correct coursework. It is too dark a red for that.”

 

“ I see . Then I am at a loss as to what is unusual about the quill.”

 

She searched his face and eyes for any sign that he was lying. She didn't find any, he could feel that as well as see it in her own face. And she was not at all happy about this. Her disappointment was as palpable as would be that of a small child told that Christmas had been  canceled.

 

“ Proceed then, Mr. Potter.”

 

Giving her a look like he was utterly baffled about why she'd interrupted him with such nonsense, he shrugged and went back to writing 'I must not contradict my teachers' with the blood quill. As he did, he mused that he was, in a way, giving her exactly what she wanted. That is, he wasn't contradicting her, or sassing her. Not as far as she could tell, anyway. He was just 'genuinely' confused by what she'd said. As he thought through all the different possible ways the rest of this encounter could go, the series of possibilities stemming from seeming to obey the words he was carving into his skin became amusing enough he decided to stick with it for now.

 

After an hour of feeling her increasingly jumbled mess of conflicted emotions, heavily flavored with confusion and dissatisfaction, she finally spoke again.

 

“Mr. Potter, surely you don't expect me to believe you haven't noticed that's blood you're writing in? Or that the quill is cutting into your skin to do it?”

 

He blinked at her, the very image of innocent perplexity. “Blood? Cuts?” He looked at the page, then at his hand. “Huh. I guess you're right. I wonder how I failed to notice that.”

 

“Yes, Potter. And what do you feel about that, now that you've noticed it?”

 

He shrugged again,  looking her right in the eyes . “A clever solution to the lack of ink, if a bit unorthodox. Shall I continue?”

 

Chandra imagined how the others would have guffawed at her expression, were they active now. But Mother had made them sleep for now.

 

Even funnier than her expression was her emotions. Confusion, disappointment, annoyance, sheer bewilderment, frustration... there were so many feelings coming from her, it was hard to sort them all out. Nay, it was nearly impossible. She was so lost right now. How was she to enjoy being cruel to someone who didn't seem to even notice it?

 

Suddenly her emotions took on a cold, logical feeling. She must have had some kind of idea, and judging by the emotions surrounding it, it wasn't one he would like at all. But she was predominantly thoughtful, planning something out in her head, and for now she just waved vaguely at him.

 

“No no, Mr. Potter,” she said vaguely. “You may stop for now. But be in my office tomorrow at 5 pm for your next detention.”

 

He shrugged again, putting down the quill, and grabbed his things.

 

Chandra nodded in her direction before leaving, and said, “Thank you, Professor Umbridge. May the rest of your week be as pleasant as you are.”

 

Then he left,  amused by her continued confusion . As he walked down the corridor, he felt her surreptitiously watching him for some sign of a delayed reaction. He had to admit she was good at this; if he hadn't been an empath, he wouldn't have known she was there at all.

 

Chandra paused outside of the Fat Lady's portrait and glanced at his hand  out of the corner of his eye . It had healed, the quill healing the cuts every time, but the area was slightly red. With a moment's thought, he made the red vanish from his skin.

 

Hermione and Neville looked up  from their homework.  Ron was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Chandra? You're back from detention already?”

 

Chandra grinned at them. “Yes. I successfully irritated and frustrated her into releasing me early.”

 

He then proceeded to tell them in detail about the whole thing. He was doing fine until he got to the part about the quill. At that point, he felt something redirect what he had intended to say, so that he was relating the rest of it as though the quill had been entirely normal. This didn't surprise him, though it was irritating.

 

Hypatia, angry, said in their mind,  [There's a compulsion charm on that quill. We won't be able to tell anyone  she was torturing a student with a blood quill  until I can find the right spell to counteract it.]

 

'Not even Sirius?' asked Adira.

 

[No, not even him. The compulsion charm won't let us. In fact, I think it's the reason Al isn't very angry about what happened. If he got as angry as he liked, he'd have to tell someone why. I think the spell is preventing him from even getting into that situation to begin with.]

 

~ The compulsion took effect the moment we touched the quill, ~ Chandra informed them.

 

'Damn that woman!'

 

“Well that's brilliant,”  Neville said, laughing. Chandra was momentarily confused until he remembered his friends couldn't hear the internal conversation they'd just had.

 

“It's kind of odd, though,” Hermione said. “I mean yes, I can see how your feigned ignorance and faked emotions could have worn her down some, but to completely let you off the hook after only less than two hours... there's something very odd about that.”

 

Chandra shrugged. “Who knows what precisely went through Sorrow And Enmity's mind? I am an empath, not a legilimens.”

 

Neville started to laugh at this. “'Sorrow And Enmity'? Merlin's pants, that's hilarious!”

 

“ It is a direct translation of her name. 'Dolores' means 'Sorrow,' and 'Umbridge' sounds like 'umbrage,' which is similar to 'enmity.'”

 

Hermione shook her head. “I can't believe she didn't recognize that line from Dante's Inferno.”

 

“Huh?”  Neville said. “What's that?”

 

“The Italian phrase that Chandra quoted at her, it was from an epic poem by Dante, called 'The Divine Comedy.' It's about a man who gets a tour of Hell and Heaven. The line was Italian for 'Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.' It was written over the gates of Hell.”

 

“And that's Muggle literature?”

 

“Really old Muggle literature,  as it was written in the 14 th century , but yes.  I'm surprised you haven't heard about it, it's famous and dates from well before the Statute of Secrecy. ”

 

“ So,”  Neville said, thinking, “Chandra looked at her office and said, in Italian, 'Abandon hope, all ye who enter here?'”

 

“Yes.”

 

Neville snorted at this.  Hermione said,  “That's hilarious,  Chandra !”

 

“Thank you,  Fuzzy Reading Girl .”

 

Neville looked interested at this. “Do you have a nickname for everyone?”

 

“No. I have many such nicknames for people, though.”

 

Hermione glowered at him while the two boys laughed.  “I don't really like that nickname,” she said.

 

“Hagrid is 'Big Fuzzy Father.' Or sometimes 'Tall Father.'  I can come up with another one for you, ”  he said to Hermione. “How about... Library  Lion  Girl?”

 

“That one's pretty accurate too, Hermione,”  Neville said.

 

“It's acceptable,” Hermione said, going back to her homework.

 

“Can I get one, Chandra?” Neville asked.

 

Chandra considered Neville for several minutes.  Then he took Neville's hand, looking like he was feeling for something in Neville.

 

“ ' Mustard Seed, ' ” Chandra  finally  said. Neville just looked confused.

 

“ The Bible, Matthew 17:20.  ' Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.' ”

 

“ Um... I don't know if I like that one, Chandra.  I like the sentiment behind it, but not the nickname itself.  I don't think anyone will realize it's me you're talking about with that nickname. ”

 

“ Okay.  I will try to think of a better one later,” Chandra said. “For now, I believe I shall tell Brave Father of the Black House what transpired today.”

 

He went up to his room, then, to do precisely that.

 

In his head, he heard Iliana say, ' We've all voted, and every class with Umbridge is going to be attended by Chandra  from now on . '

 

~ I am amenable to that, ~ Chandra responded.

 

 

Endnote: Anyone with ideas for what Chandra's nickname for Neville should be, let me know. I'm drawing a blank.


	5. Truces and Trenches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adira and Malfoy hash out a reluctant truce. More Umbridge detentions with Chandra. And the collective and their friends in Gryffindor have their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Sirius Black!

“ **The Many Faces Go To War: Chapter 5”**

By = Fayanora

 

**Chapter Five: Truces and Trenches**

 

Notes: This is the second chapter of the sequel to “The Many Faces of Har---er, Adira Potter.” If you haven't read that series yet, this one isn't going to make much sense. Also, a reminder for anyone who forgot: the person formerly known as Harry still exists, she's just transgender in this one, her new name is Adira, nicknamed “Addy.”

 

FORMATTING FOR INTERNAL VOICES = Because the previous note about the styles was messing with the formatting, the following will be formatting for internal voices: 'Single quotes with no italics' will be Adira/Addy unless someone is quoting something, ~Text in tildes~ will be Chandra, (Parentheses for Al,) [Brackets will be Hypatia], % Percentage symbols for Iliana %, # Pound signs for Mother/Avani, # * Asterisks for Zoey, * and {curly brackets for Tier.} Apologies for any confusion this may cause.

 

Text in _'Italics and single quotes'_ is Parseltongue.

 

J. K. Rowling owns this sandbox, I'm only playing in it.

 

***FAYANORA***

 

After talking with Sirius – who had found the Compulsion-Charm censored version of their detention hilarious – and getting their homework done, they needed to decompress after a long and difficult day. Switching to Zoey, she decided that what she'd do was turn into an eagle owl and fly outside around the grounds. It was an amazing experience, and as she exhilarated in the cool night air, she wondered if Tonks or any other metamorphmagus had thought to try the same thing. Though she suspected that they'd keep it a secret like she was doing, if so. If for no other reason than the knowledge that the Ministry would throw a fit trying to register an animagus who could become any kind of animal they'd had physical contact with over the years.

 

Flying over the Forbidden Forest was especially thrilling, though she only did it briefly before flying over the Black Lake and the non-forbidden copses of trees here and there.

 

Then, as a test, she flew past the wards, over the gate to the school. She felt a tingle of magic, and Chandra informed her that it meant the wards had registered her as being an actual owl. Well, that was convenient. If she needed to, she could escape. But for now, she flew back inside the Hogwarts wards, again feeling that tingle. Better safe than sorry, after all.

 

As she kept flying, she thought she knew what the Marauders had felt like, exploring the school grounds at night. She also thought they'd all be jealous of her being able to fly, crawl, slither, or swim anywhere she wanted to. That is, if she could still breathe underwater – she knew Tier could, but would that power transfer over? - or find an animal that could manage it without needing to know the detailed anatomy of gills.

 

Ha! She realized suddenly she could deliver her own letters to Hagrid like this. Wouldn't that be a hoot. Ha! A hoot! She laughed to herself, but stopped when she felt her owl form begin to falter. She didn't want to fall out of the sky, after all. It would suck if Voldemort won because she died for such a stupid reason, and if she survived, it would require a lot of explanation.

 

Owl night vision was amazing, by the way. The night looked like... well, it looked like a cloudy day, with enough light to see by but no obvious source of light. And she could see details on the ground from high up that were just incredible. It was a little irritating having to turn her head to see in different directions, but she felt why it was necessary; her eyes were no longer round, they were tubes. Owls had to turn their whole heads because their tube-shaped eyes were fixed in place in their heads, which she thought was just really weird, but whatever. This form would be excellent for night-time reconnaissance.

 

She landed in one of the open windows and turned from an owl to a cat, where she leaped to the floor and began sniffing around the castle. She hoped she didn't run into Crookshanks, or that if she did, hoped he wouldn't recognize her.

 

When she finally had enough of exploring the castle as a cat, she found by scent the window she'd come in from, leaped onto the windowsill, turned back into an owl, and flew to her own window, which was a lot harder to find, requiring her to peek in different windows until she found hers. When she got inside, she changed back to a cat, and decided to try sleeping as a cat.

 

~

 

The next morning, Zoey woke up and realized she'd turned human again in the night. She wondered if that was just because she couldn't maintain that form while asleep, or if Hypatia had done it.

 

[The latter,] Hypatia informed her. [Draco and I met up again, and we discussed the truce Adira offered.]

 

Nodding, she got up and looked in the mirror.

 

* And what did you and he decide? *

 

[I convinced him to take the offer seriously, but couched it in cautious language. Slytherin language. I think he's going to accept it, if you can agree on the terms.]

 

'Well we'll meet up with him sometime soon to do that,' Adira said.

 

[Yes. I suggest meeting him at the library, he'll be there at the break after Divination. If you use privacy spells, Ms. Pince won't mind.]

 

'Plus, less likely to erupt into violence,' Adira pointed out. 'Which should ease his mind just as much as ours.'

 

Zoey nodded, and they switched to Alastair.

 

At Divination class, Al was reading a book he'd gotten from the Divination section of the library, instead of doing the dream diary stuff. He had been annoyed, the year before, when it had taken a great deal of time and effort to get answers out of the tarot cards that were properly useful to him. They hadn't warned him about Luna being captured, and they'd been kind of vague on how dangerous the fake Moody had been, so he hadn't been as prepared as he should have been. Granted, he shouldn't have gone running headlong into danger, but it was the principle of the thing.

 

So, wanting a divination method that could give him adequately complex answers to questions ill suited to tarot decks, he'd gone on the hunt for a better replacement. And he thought he'd found one, something called “reading the bones.” It wasn't at all an easy method to learn, though. He figured it would probably take at least six months of study and practice to even begin to get anything useful out of it, but it had the potential to make that effort worth it.

 

He was still casually reading the divination book when Trelawney knocked on his chair's leg with one foot to get his attention. Only then did he realize she'd been talking to him.

 

Glancing up briefly, he asked, “Yes, Professor?” He didn't wait for an answer before going back to his reading.

 

“Young man, we are interpreting the dreams of our partners in class today, using our dream journals as references.”

 

“That's nice.”

 

He could feel her anger with him, but he ignored it.

 

“Alastair Potter! I expect you to do as I have instructed!”

 

“Well you must be very disappointed, in that case.”

 

She slammed her hands down on the table, startling him into looking at her.

 

“Better. Now, put down the book.”

 

“Hey, at least it's in the same subject,” he said, showing her the title.

 

She examined the title for a moment, then scoffed.

 

“That is far too advanced for you, Mr. Potter. You show very little skill in basic divination methods such as the crystal ball, palmistry, and reading tea leaves. Reading the bones is something you likely won't have any luck with before N.E.W.T. level.”

 

“Yeah, I know full well it won't be easy. But trying to get complex, useful answers out of a tarot deck is an exercise in frustration, so I'm willing to try. And anyway, I did have an actual vision during my exam with the crystal ball in my third year, so I figure that makes me more skilled at crystal gazing than you are, Professor.”

 

She pursed her lips at him and ignored both this and the smattering of laughter from the other students, opting instead to change the subject.

 

“Tell me about the dreams you had last night, Mr. Potter, so I may attempt to interpret them.”

 

“Well, I did have this one dream,” he began thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “It was pretty incredible.”

 

“Yes?” she asked eagerly.

 

“Well you see, I dreamed that this subject was being taught by a competent teacher. What do you suppose _that_ means, Professor?”

 

There was a lot more laughter at this, and Trelawney stood there glaring daggers at Al, whose face was the very picture of innocence.

 

When the laughter died down, she spoke again.

 

“Alright, Mr. Potter. If you are so skilled at Divination, then pray make a prediction for me.”

 

He considered her a moment, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? Only, the tarot is frustrating. You were talking about the crystal ball, so if you'd be so kind as to bring me one, I'll see if I can replicate my having a vision. Though you didn't believe the one I had in third year, so this may be pointless. But sure, bring it on.”

 

Looking a little unsure of herself now, Trelawney walked over to one of her cabinets and soon was bringing a crystal ball over and setting it in front of him. He leaned back, trying to replicate the same mixture of boredom and mental silence he'd had during that one exam. It helped him that the room was warm, and also that he'd had a recent vision over the summer.

 

The room was mostly silent as everyone waited for something to happen. Probably they were expecting some more back sass, but Al was genuinely trying this time.

 

He found it was easier, now, to focus on the flaws in the crystal and just let the sight of these flaws fill his mind and leave no room for conscious thought. Before five minutes had elapsed, Al felt his mind unfocus itself in a familiar way.

 

And then he began to speak in a deeper voice than usual, using a voice so full of power and wisdom that all ears were listening intently.

 

_“Bundle of sticks up to its old tricks; a hate so great it worries Fate. Faces of white in the night become a blight; a pox upon the land is this band, against it we all must stand! Take care: despair rattles air, and magic beans are not the means to stop these scenes. Only_ _ fools _ _stand divided 'gainst the warning provided! Do not stall to heed the call or ALL. SHALL._ _**FALL** _ _!!!”_

 

There were shrieks and screams all around the room. Alastair had banged the table so hard on the last word that the crystal ball jumped up and then rolled off the table with a very loud THUD. A significant wind had also blown from the direction of Alastair, turning pages of books and ruffling people's hair.

 

Al snapped out of it and looked around at the deathly-silent room full of windswept people.

 

“Ouch,” he said, rubbing his hand. “That bloody well hurt. Anyone got a paracetamol?”

 

Everyone just continued to stare at him.

 

“Guess that's a no.”

 

~

 

Adira walked across the library during the break after Divination, to the annoyance of Ron, who had wanted to discuss Al's vision. Adira did not bring Ron with her.

 

Malfoy sat there at one of the chairs in the back, waiting. He looked up from a book when he saw her.

 

“Potter,” he said.

 

“Malfoy.”

 

“I'm surprised you showed up. A friend of mine suggested this was a good time to meet you. I'm not sure how she knew you would have the same idea, but then she's surprised me before. Please sit.” He indicated the seat across from his own.

 

Adira cast all the privacy spells she knew on the corner before she sat down in the seat. Malfoy moved a small table from next to his chair with his wand and placed it between them. It had some parchment and a quill on it. Adira raised an eyebrow curiously at him.

 

“This is for working out the wording of the oath. You can use your own parchment if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

 

“Okay. Um... before we get started, I thought of something else.”

 

“What's that?”

 

“I want, somehow, some clause that includes my friends and Iliana's girlfriend, Luna Lovegood, in this. What I mean is, I want to be able to continue to protect them from you and other people who might do them harm.”

 

“Hmm... so you _are_ dating the Lovegood oddity? I'd heard rumors, but I wasn't certain.”

 

“Okay first of all, Iliana is dating her, I'm not. We're all different people, Draco, even though we---”

 

“I did not give you permission to be so casual with me,” Malfoy said with a sneer.

 

This genuinely confused her. “Pardon?”

 

“You called me by my given name, Potter, when you should have used my surname. It's impolite. Presumptuous.”

 

“Oh. Oops. Sorry about that. I don't know what got into me, Malfoy.”

 

“Riiight. Anyway, you were babbling on about something?” Malfoy examined his nails casually.

 

She scowled at him. “I was saying we're all different people, Malfoy, even though we're sharing one body for now. So please keep that in mind when talking about one of us.”

 

Malfoy sighed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Potter.”

 

“So back to what I was saying before: I want to be able to continue to protect my friends - especially Luna – from you. So I want them all included in whatever oaths we agree to.”

 

Malfoy looked at her thoughtfully a few moments, then sighed. “Fine, whatever. We can do that. In return, I want Crabbe and Goyle included as well.”

 

“What's to stop them from attacking one of my friends?”

 

Malfoy rolled his eyes again. “What part of 'I want Crabbe and Goyle included as well' got past your understanding, Potter? I meant that both ways. Meaning I'll swear I won't sic them on you.”

 

“Again, what stops them from attacking my friends? They could act on their own whims, or because they think you want them to attack but you didn't actually say so. And what's to stop you sending some other Slytherin after me or my friends?”

 

“And here I thought you were intelligent, Potter.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean that if we do these oaths correctly, they will be intent based. You have a good point on Crabbe and Goyle being able to attack on their own whim, or on what they think I want but I didn't tell them outright. But if we do this right, I could no more send someone else after you deliberately than I could go after you myself. Not without suffering the same consequences.”

 

[He has a point there, you know,] Hypatia told her.

 

“Okay. So what about the Crabbe and Goyle thing?”

 

“Well obviously, the wording of your oath would include them, so you couldn't attack them without provocation, and you'd still be able to fight back if they attacked you first. They need not take their own oaths. But you understand I'd want the same to apply to your friends as well.”

 

“You expect me to swear on my magic that none of my friends will attack you on their own whims?”

 

The blond boy sneered again. “Of course not, Potter. That would be stupid, especially as one of your friends is Ronald Weasley, who's nearly as hot headed as you---sorry,” he said derisively, “as 'Alastair' is.”

 

“Right.” Adira started writing some ideas down on a piece of parchment. “So we both swear to not instigate any fights against each other or our defined friends, and I swear not to escalate any fights any of us do have with you or your two bookends? Which would mean our friends can still act against each other or each other's friends of their own volition, but not if we direct them at each other or each other's friends... good gourd, this is getting complicated.”

 

“You're overthinking it, Potter. You'd simply be doing a ritual oath to the effect of something like 'I swear on such and such to not attack Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, or Gregory Goyle without provocation, and I swear on such and such to not escalate any conflict with' and then those names again. Then I do something similar, but including your friends.”

 

“Okay... but how exactly do we define 'provocation'?”

 

Malfoy closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose in a very familiar way, before opening his eyes again to answer.

 

“That's irrelevant, Potter. The oaths would be intent based. If you or I think there's sufficient provocation to justify an attack, then the oaths would let us attack. Yours would restrict you to using only whatever force was already used. So if I jinxed your little curly-haired mudblood friend with a Jelly-Legs Jinx, you could attack me back with something of equal or lesser power. Same would apply to me, if you jinxed Crabbe or Goyle.

 

“This would also mean that you'd be prevented from doing anything worse to me than I'd done to you or your friends, if I broke the oath first.”

 

“I think I should insist you swear not to escalate, either, so I get the same benefit. And don't use that M word again.”

 

“Fine, fine. If that will put your mind at ease enough to let us continue this, then I agree. To both those things, just to clarify.”

 

It took a bit more back and forth after that, but finally the two of them settled on oaths to give. Malfoy, despite having been brought in by Adira saying she would swear by her magic, insisted that nobody did that kind of thing so lightly; in fact, Unbreakable Vows – which killed those who broke them – were far more preferable, as a pureblood would rather die than live without magic, but no, he wasn't insisting on that either. They finally agreed to both take the same level of oath, one that pressured the oath-taker into obeying their oath, but could be broken without more than getting ill. Specifically, a flu-like illness that would take an hour to take effect and would last 24 hours before it passed.

 

Holding her wand, Addy said, “I, Adira Lily Potter, on behalf of myself and all the inhabitants of my body, do swear on pain of the Warlock's Flu, that I shall not attack without provocation Draco Lucius Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, or Gregory Goyle, nor direct others to attack them, until released from this oath by Draco Lucius Malfoy's word or the breaking of his own oath. I also swear, on behalf of myself and all the inhabitants of my body, and again on pain of the Warlock's Flu, to not escalate any conflict I have with Draco Lucius Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, or Gregory Goyle, swearing to use only whatever amount of force against them as is first used against me by them, until released from this oath by Draco Lucius Malfoy's word or the breaking of his own oath. As I speak it, so mote it be!”

 

A ribbon of silver light came out of her wand and surrounded her in a figure eight before dissipating.

 

In a voice of annoyed, grudging acceptance, Malfoy said with his wand in his hand, “And I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, do swear on pain of the Warlock's Flu, that I shall not attack without provocation Adira Lily Potter and all the inhabitants of her body, Hermione Jean Granger, Ronald Billius Weasley, Javier Joaquin Mendoza, Neville Longbottom, or Luna Lovegood, nor direct others to attack them, until released from this oath by the word of Adira Lily Potter and all the inhabitants of her body, or their breaking of their oath. I also swear, again on pain of the Warlock's Flu, to not escalate any conflict I have with Adira Lily Potter and all the inhabitants of her body, Hermione Jean Granger, Ronald Billius Weasley, Javier Joaquin Mendoza, Neville Longbottom, or Luna Lovegood, swearing to use only whatever amount of force against them as is first used against me by them, until released from this oath by the word of Adira Lily Potter and all the inhabitants of her body, or their breaking of their oath. As I speak it, so mote it be!”

 

As it had with Adira's wand, the oath produced a glowing silver ribbon that formed a figure eight around him before dissipating.

 

“Good, that's done just in time for my next class, Potter. Good day to you, Potter.”

 

“Good day to you as well, Malfoy.”

 

They tore down the privacy spells, letting Malfoy leave. When he was gone, they switched back to Alastair for the rest of the day.

 

~

 

He thought about the upcoming detention for a time during transfiguration, but that didn't continue long before he had to concentrate on his work. But the others in his head kept thinking quietly. By the time class ended, Iliana had had a brainstorm. He went up to Professor McGonagall after class and got her attention.

 

“Yes, Mr. Potter, what is it?”

 

“Professor, Iliana had a thought just now. I know we can't do Quidditch tryouts on Saturday because of our detention, but couldn't we do them Sunday?”

 

She blinked a moment, then smiled. “An excellent idea, Potter. I'll reschedule them for Sunday after lunch. Please don't get any more detentions before then.”

 

“I'll try my best.”

 

“See that you do.”

 

~

 

Naturally, Ron and Al discussed his latest prophecy and what it meant during Herbology, since they didn't have a chance in Transfiguration.

 

“I have to say, as prophecies go, that one was pretty straight-forward,” Al said.

 

“It was?” asked Ron.

 

“Yeah. Not sure what it meant by 'bundle of sticks up to its old tricks,' but the 'faces of white in the night' are clearly Death Eaters. I think 'despair rattles air' means dementors. And the thing about magic beans is an obvious nod to the Muggle fairy tale of Jack and the Beanstalk, so it's talking about the giants, there. Only unknown is the 'bundle of sticks' part. Kind of a useless prophecy, actually; didn't tell me much I didn't already know.”

 

Hermione, who had been listening, said thoughtfully, “'Bundle of sticks' sounds familiar for some reason... I think I read something about it, but I can't remember what it was.”

 

Al shrugged. “Only 'bundle of sticks' I know about is the word 'faggot,' which is a slur against gay men but also means 'a bundle of sticks' for some strange reason. I kinda doubt that's what the prophecy was referring to, though.

 

“Anyhoo, if I have time today, I'll tell Sirius about it. In fact, I'll just give him a written copy at dinner, he's usually there for meals.”

 

Ron chuckled at this. “It always amuses me seeing the rest of the original teachers' looks of anxiety whenever you and Sirius are in the same place together.”

 

“Me too, Ron, me too.”

 

~

 

Chandra went in at five pm that afternoon for the next detention, after Al gave Sirius a written copy of his most recent prophecy. As he walked to 'Sorrow and Enmity's' office, Chandra ran possible scenarios through his mind in an attempt to prepare the best responses.

 

He knocked on the door and was told to come in. He opened the door and walked in.

 

“ _Silencio!_ ” he heard her cry, and registered a split second later that she had her wand pointed at him. He tried to talk, and nothing came out.

 

~ Well **that** was not in any of my scenarios, ~ Chandra thought.

 

“Excellent, Mr. Potter. Now I won't have to listen to any clever back sass from you tonight. You will write 'I must not tell lies' until I tell you to stop. I will not be answering questions. If you speak, I will silence you again. Do you understand me?”

 

Chandra nodded.

 

Pleased with this, Umbridge lifted the silencing charm from him. He sat down at the provided chair and started writing with the quill that cut into his hand.

 

Again he did not give any sign of distress, and this time the feelings coming from Umbridge were mostly, at first, an annoyed resignation with an undertone of something more sinister that he couldn't identify right away. He examined the emotion a bit more carefully, and he thought it was an evil-flavored version of having finally accepted that some decision she'd been pondering was in fact the right one. Which was then followed by a twisted version of burgeoning hope, and eager anticipation. This worried him, but on further analysis, he decided that it was tinged with the emotional equivalent of her telling herself to be patient. So whatever it was wouldn't be happening right away.

 

The night was long and full of pain, silence, and an increasing difficulty ignoring the pain from the blood quill's function being abused. These quills were meant to be used only for certain magical contracts that, for whatever reason, required being signed in blood. Since there wasn't much call for that, she must have spent a small fortune procuring this one. He idly wondered what would happen if he 'accidentally' caught the quill on fire. But given she already seemed to be planning something, he decided to think about it a while first.

 

The skin on the back of Chandra's hand became irritated more quickly now and was soon red and inflamed. He thought it unlikely that it would keep healing as effectively for long. Soon the cut would remain etched into his hand and Umbridge would, perhaps, be satisfied. He let no gasp of pain escape him, however, and from the moment of entering the room to the moment of his dismissal, this time not til past midnight, he said nothing but 'goodnight'.

 

This of course left his homework situation a bit difficult, but nothing too horrible yet. He just hoped she wasn't going to be making a habit of keeping him this long, or they might fall behind in classes. But he needn't worry about that tonight. Not wanting to waste any more time, Chandra went to bed and was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

~

 

The next morning – a Thursday, the Potters woke up as Adira. Having been kept up past midnight, they were a bit groggy this morning, not talking much because of it.

 

That afternoon was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Sirius Black, who had been training to be an Auror before his unlawful imprisonment without a trial. This was the class anyone who knew Sirius was either looking forward to or dreading, depending on the exact contrast between how you wanted it to go and how it actually went.

 

Everyone was sitting in the classroom talking quietly, waiting for Sirius to arrive to start the class. Just a couple minutes passed before the door burst open with a bang and Sirius – wearing a black long-sleeved shirt and black trousers – leaped into the room with his wand out, shouted “ _EN GARDE!_ ” and began casting Stinging Hexes wildly at the seated students.

 

Utter. Bedlam. Nothing like it had been seen since the incident where Lockhart had released a load of Cornish Pixies into the room. Students screamed, desks were overturned, ink bottles smashed, and books and parchment went flying as everyone reacted to this madman who was shooting hexes at innocent students.

 

Sirius barked with delighted laughter at their reactions, and said, without slowing down his barrage, “Tut, tut, this won't do! _Fight back!_ Don't just react, _**act**_!”

 

A few people who had been coherent enough in the face of this onslaught to hear and process what he'd said did, in fact, manage to fight back, casting their own hexes at Sirius. Adira was especially vicious, letting Chandra use his special rapid-fire hex technique to put Sirius on the defensive, even making her godfather duck behind the teacher's desk to take potshots at them from around its corners.

 

Within minutes, there were so many voices shouting incantations in the room that it was impossible to pick any single voice out of the din. The scene strongly reminded Addy of movies about World War One, the scenes involving trench warfare and No Man's Land. But despite the fact that most of the students in the room were casting hexes toward the teacher, and despite the fact Addy was keeping Sirius on the defensive, it was pretty much doomed to be a stalemate unless she started to get  _creative_ .

 

With that in mind, the troops of the Potter collective rallied. Hypatia shot off an over-powered  _aguamenti_ that made it start to rain right above where Sirius was hiding – she heard him shouting about it as he scrambled to protect himself from the water. Then with their left hand, Zoey turned the whole floor on his side of the room into ice. Sirius shouted some more and scrambled for purchase, trying to get his wand in position to cast the counter-charm, but failing because he kept slipping on the ice.

 

Taking advantage of this, Adira stood up and slid across the ice, Stunning a shocked Sirius before he could lift his wand to defend himself.

 

“I got him!” she shouted. The other students began to cheer, some of them cautiously moving forward to make sure she was telling the truth.

 

Adira took stock of the aftermath, the room wrecked beyond belief, people's hair mussed; Hermione's already-difficult hair was looking wilder than Addy had ever seen it.

 

“He's a madman!” Seamus said, gesticulating wildly. “Attacking us like that, even Moody didn't do that! Take his wand away! Tie him up!”

 

Taking great delight in this, several students helped Adira disarm and tie up Professor Sirius Black and suspend him from the wall with a Sticking Charm, like a wrapped-up fly stuck on a spider's web. Only then did Adira wake him up with her wand.

 

His head jerked up and he made sleepy noises as he regained consciousness, looking around in confusion until he remembered what had happened. When he did, he grinned.

 

“You got me! Good job! But you lot had an unfair advantage with Adira here on your side.”

 

“What was the big idea, attacking us?” Dean demanded.

 

“Thought I'd make your first class memorable,” he said with a roguish grin. Or it may have been an impish grin.

 

“Well you certainly succeeded!” Dean responded. Everyone else nodded or muttered their agreement.

 

Sirius twitched; Adira thought he'd tried to shrug.

 

“Eh, what can I say? I'd heard for years about Moody's 'constant vigilance,' and thought I'd do something similar. Besides which, it kind of illustrates that most of you are pants at defending yourselves. I can tell by the number of Stinging Hexes that appear to have hit their mark. You lot, with the sting marks, you'd all be dead if I'd been a dark wizard trying to kill you. So in my class this year, you're going to learn how to defend yourself; whether one-on-one in a duel, or in a group dogfight like today.

 

“Now release me so I can clean this mess up and get to the actual lesson.”

 

Adira raised an eyebrow at him. “Hmm... I dunno, Professor Black, it might not be safe.”

 

Sirius raised his own eyebrow at Adira in response. “You know I can still take points away from you in this position, right?”

 

“Yes, you could. If we let you remain conscious.”

 

“I have to wake up eventually, Addy. And when I do, I can take points, give detentions, and other fun things.”

 

“Let me just ask you a question, Professor.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“If you'd been in my position during your school days, would  _you_ have let you go?”

 

When the laughter died down, Sirius said in a dignified manner, “I answer your question with another question: would  _you_ enjoy eating nothing but Brussels sprouts and gruel for the next month? I could easily arrange it.”

 

Adira laughed. “You win, then, Professor Black. Hermione, Ron, help me out here.”

 

Reluctantly, her friends helped her untie Sirius. When he was loose and he had his wand again, he used it to clean up the mess the dogfight had caused.

 

“Now, everyone in your seats. I'm going to spend the rest of the course outlining what we'll be doing this year, and I expect you to take very good notes as I do.”

 

~

 

Adira would've liked to have discussed Sirius's class with Ron, Hermione, and Neville, but she had a detention again tonight at 5 pm. So once more she didn't bother taking her book bag upstairs before going to dinner to bolt down some food.

 

This time, as she left the Great Hall for the detention, she felt Zoey shove both her and Chandra back, and take over the body, changing it to match her younger-looking form.

 

'What are you doing, Zoey?' Adira asked her inside their head.

 

* Protecting Chandra of course. Surely she won't hurt a little kid. *

 

'She's literally torturing a 15 year old teenager. And who knows who else she's doing this to?'

 

* Yeah but I'm only six. That's a lot different from hurting a teen. *

 

'Zoey, she doesn't think of us as our own people. She thinks we're a singlet who's pretending.'

 

* Well I don't see any of you lot comin up wif a better idea to deal wif her! *

 

'Chandra's tactic may not be getting to her anymore, but at least we're getting through these detentions.'

 

* But--- *

 

'No buts. She sees us like this, she'll probably grin evilly and say something like “Now Mr. Potter, pretending to be an innocent child won't work. I know you're not innocent, nor a small child.” Then she'll just do the blood quill anyway.'

 

(I could burn the quill,) Al said.

 

'She might have more. But... if not, that might work. She can't report us for destroying it, after all, as she'd have to explain how we knew she had it.'

 

% Yes, % said Iliana in an exasperated tone, % but she could just give us more detentions. Zoey, give Chandra the reigns before we get there. %

 

* No! I'm gonna try this. Gonna try my charming adorableness on her! If it don't work, then I'll give control back to Chandra. Alright? *

 

'Ugh, fine!' Adira said. The others all agreed.

 

So it was that Zoey – her hair in adorable braided pigtails and wearing a pink and sparkly Muggle dress – who opened the door into Umbridge's office and gave the woman a gap-toothed grin. Umbridge, sitting at her desk, looked at Zoey in a moment of confusion before apparently recognizing her somehow. She indeed smiled wickedly.

 

“Mr. Potter, I have heard all about your other disguises, including the infamous child prankster disguise. If you think I'm going to let you off easily tonight because of this, you are sorely mistaken.”

 

Zoey's face fell.

 

* What a poopy, doody-headed fart brain, * Zoey thought at the others.

 

As Umbridge continued to smirk at her, Zoey closed the door and let Chandra rise up again.

 

“Ah yes, the Indian persona. Tell me, Mr. Potter, have either of the Patil twins or any other Indian witches or wizards expressed upset at your offensive brown-face?”

 

Chandra glared at her. ~This one has no room to speak of being offensive,~ he thought.

 

(I'm honestly surprised she'd pay enough attention to that kind of thing to be able to ask that,) Al responded.

 

“I have spoken with the Patils,” Chandra said aloud. “On many occasions. They have never expressed any such sentiment, nor did their behavior indicate they were keeping such feelings hidden.”

 

“Hmm... well perhaps you should ask them sometime? But for now, come here, Mr. Potter.”

 

“Of course, Ms. Braithwaite.”

 

Umbridge blinked. Then she quickly recovered. “Mr. Potter, my name is Ms. Umbridge. Not Ms. Braithwaite.”

 

“And my name is Mr. Rahasyamay, not Mr. Potter. I will honor your name if you honor mine.”

 

She smiled wickedly again. “Mr. Potter, if you call me any name other than 'Ms. Umbridge,' I will give you an extra two weeks of detentions.”

 

“I find it peculiar that you have no problem referring to a certain dark wizard as 'Lord Voldemort' or 'You-Know-Who' when the man's birth name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, and yet you consistently call me by the wrong surname.”

 

Umbridge, now angry, opened her mouth to speak, but Chandra interrupted her. “I also assume, since you worked in the Ministry, that you have met Auror Tonks on at least one occasion. She is a metamorphmagus, as we have recently discovered we are as well. Since she was proclaimed a girl upon her birth, and has never – to my knowledge – said anything to contradict this, I presume you refer to her as such. However, being that she is a metamorphmagus, for all we know she may have had a penis before being born, and at some point before her birth may well have changed the arrangement of that area to reflect a female form. Or, in Muggle parlance, she may well be XY for all we know, and we only think of her as an XX female because she has changed her body to match what she wanted us to think.

 

“And yes, that is a fair bit of thought to attribute to an infant, but gender may well be instinctual or something like it. Not the point. The point is that when Adira or Iliana or Zoey are Out, the body we share changes to match them, and they are no more a 'Mister' than *you* are. And yet, you are consistently rude and offensive by referring to them as the wrong gender and names.

 

“Now for myself, being called Mr. Potter is only mildly annoying, for I am indeed of the Potter collective. But I have been trying to get you to realize how rude you are being. By all means, continue to be cruel in your punishments. You will doubtless reap what you have sown in time, so I am not concerned about that. But teacher or no, power of the Ministry behind you or no, it is expected to be polite in this society, and you are being terribly rude every time you refer to one of the girls by the wrong gender. How would you like it, Madam Umbridge, if I were to do that to you?”

 

“Why, Mr. Potter, I would give you more detentions if you were to do that.”

 

“Right. But I ask you this: what if your Minister Fudge were to one day decide that he had been known by the wrong gender this whole time, and became Madam Minister Fudge? Would you continue to be rude by mis-gendering him – or rather her – in that case? I very much doubt it. Because if nothing else, I doubt she would tolerate your insolence and would tell you in no uncertain terms to use the proper gender for her or else be fired.

 

“My point is that if it is rude to do that to your superior, it is equally rude to do it to underlings or others who answer to you.”

 

There was silence for almost a minute or two while she seemed to weigh whether or not she could justifiably give him more detention for pointing out how rude she was being. Finally, though, she did answer.

 

“ _Silencio_!” she said, her wand up and casting the spell before Chandra could react. He tried to talk, and nothing came out.

 

~ Here we go again, ~ Chandra thought.

 

(I'm surprised she let you prattle on that long before doing that,) Al said. (Maybe she was hoping you'd give her another excuse to give us more detentions?)

 

“Good, now there's that noise dealt with,” Umbridge said. “Mr. Potter, you will write 'I must not tell lies' until I tell you to stop. I will not be answering questions. I will not be un-silencing you. Do you understand me?”

 

Chandra nodded.

 

Umbridge smiled and went over to her own desk to sit down. Chandra sat down at the provided chair and started writing with the accursed black quill. Again, it cut into him and again, their blood was on the parchment.

 

Again he did not give any sign of distress, and again he was feeling concerning feelings from Umbridge. Whatever she was up to, he would very much not like. Worried about what she was planning, Chandra began slowly to let small signs and sounds of distress turn up, on the idea that if he appeased her desire for cruelty now, he might avoid something worse later. And it seemed to be working. She noticed the little signs of distress that he let leak through, and grinned maliciously at him.

 

Chandra did a good enough job that an hour before midnight, Umbridge checked his hand and in a pleased voice said he could go home early tonight, but would still need to return for Friday night and Saturday.

 

As he went back to Gryffindor, they thought to each other.

 

[I don't like the fact that she has our blood. There's no telling what she could do with it,] Hypatia said. The others agreed, but what could they do about it?

 

[There are ways. Granted, most of the blood she's got on the parchments is useless because it's dry, but who knows if she's siphoning it off or not while it's being extracted? That compulsion charm is a modification, who knows what other modifications she's made? Some magics don't easily show up to Chandra's psychometry, and we'd have to know what to look for anyway.]

 

It was clear something would have to be done. But what?

 

~

 

At midnight that night, Adira had fallen asleep. An hour later, Hypatia woke up for one of her nightly walks. It wasn't nice to the others, but she had a greater purpose for this trek. She didn't like the fact that their blood was being taken without their consent. Again. She was going to find out what she could do against that.

 

Obviously, Percy wasn't there anymore to hide behind, but there were other prefects, and anyway, she'd come up with a new tactic ever since figuring out they were a metamorphmagus. She knew the schedules of all the prefects. She was still working on memorizing their habits – they weren't as predictable as Percy had been. There was always Filch, but she doubted Mrs. Norris would be fooled by that. So instead she decided to go the Zoey route and became a cat.

 

Unlike Zoey, Hypatia's cat form was a gray cat that was just the right shade to blend into the darkness of the castle's shadows, but an adult cat. Big enough to give Mrs. Norris a run for her money if need be. Hypatia had suspicions that Mrs. Norris was a half-Kneazle mix like Crookshanks.

 

She popped out the portrait hole and shut it behind her. Then she sneaked through the shadows, sniffing around to make sure she didn't run into the scents of either Mrs. Norris or Professor McGonagall. To her surprise, she met nobody on her way to the library, unless you counted Sir Nicolas drifting through the corridor the way only a ghost could – coming out one wall and sliding into the opposite wall. But the ghost hadn't shown any sign of noticing her, so she continued on.

 

Getting inside the library without hands was a little bit more difficult. She had to use wandless magic to do it, and that took a few minutes to get done right. By comparison, closing the door was far easier, happening in seconds.

 

Once inside, she went back to human form, but Disillusioned herself since she hadn't been able to bring the invisibility cloak with her. She set to work, then, looking through the library with the techniques they'd learned from Cedric last year. Using that, she quickly found what she was looking for, and once she'd confirmed it had the information she needed, she used her wand to copy the pages she needed, folding them up and putting them in a pocket. She kept looking for some more things, but she'd apparently already got the best answer. Even checking the Restricted Section – sneaking in easily as a cat, she didn't find anything else better.

 

When she got back to their dorm, she copied the information into a notebook in case the conjured pages were to fade. She then set the notebook on top of their trunk where it would be obvious, before going back to sleep in Adira's form of their body.

 

 

**Endnotes:** LOL, I loved writing Sirius's class! I didn't know how Sirius's class would be until I got to that point in the story, and OMG that was fun!

 

Heh, and that bit where Adira slipped up and called Malfoy “Draco” was a total mistake on my part, but instead of correcting it, I just kept it because Hypatia keeps thinking of him as Draco, and with her being more social with the others now, it makes sense they'd slip up now and then. :)

 

Short chapter I know, but I had to write three versions of this before I was satisfied with it. First version was really dark and painted me into a corner. Second version had Umbridge out of the school in less than a week of school starting, and there was more I wanted to do with the Umbitch that I wouldn't be able to do with that version.


	6. So Many Questions!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More issues with Umbridge, but Iliana manages to have tryouts in time. Dobby helps the Potters with their Umbridge troubles. Al nearly blows his lid in class.

“ **The Many Faces Go To War: Chapter 6”**

By = Fayanora

 

**Chapter Six: So Many Questions!**

 

Notes: This is the sequel to “The Many Faces of Har---er, Adira Potter.” If you haven't read that series yet, this one isn't going to make much sense. Also, a reminder for anyone who forgot: the person formerly known as Harry still exists, she's just transgender in this one, her new name is Adira, nicknamed “Addy.”

 

FORMATTING FOR INTERNAL VOICES = Because the previous note about the styles was messing with the formatting, the following will be formatting for internal voices: 'Single quotes with no italics' will be Adira/Addy unless someone is quoting something, ~Text in tildes~ will be Chandra, (Parentheses for Al,) [Brackets will be Hypatia], % Percentage symbols for Iliana %, # Pound signs for Mother/Avani, # * Asterisks for Zoey, * and {curly brackets for Tier.} Apologies for any confusion this may cause.

 

Text in _'Italics and single quotes'_ is Parseltongue.

 

J. K. Rowling owns this sandbox, I'm only playing in it.

 

This chapter contains some quotations from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

 

***FAYANORA***

 

When Adira woke up the next morning, she found a notebook on her trunk that turned out to be from Hypatia. It was full of information about how to keep people from getting your blood without your consent. After looking through it and spotting some highlighted areas, she found there was also another bit about how to make your blood useless for magical purposes if you couldn't avoid your blood being taken from you. They decided to focus on that for now. First, it was a simple potion one took up to an hour before the event. Second, they didn't like to think what Umbridge would do if the blood stopped flowing from the blood quill. And third, they weren't sure if the spell to stop blood being taken would stop the blood quill working at all, and the idea of being cut into without bleeding was fraught with questions about how that might affect them.

 

At breakfast, their thoughts were interrupted by Hermione pointing out something in the Daily Prophet. It seemed Sturgis Podmore, the man who Moody had been annoyed about for missing the guard duty to escort them to the train, had broken into the Ministry of Magic.

 

 

TRESPASS AT MINISTRY

 

Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the

Wizengamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31"

August. Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watchwizard Eric Munch, who found him

attempting to force his way through a top-security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podmore,

who refused to speak, in his own defense, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six

months in Azkaban.

 

 

“Six months in Azkaban for trying to get through a door?” Adira said, dumbfounded. “I mean yeah, it's a Ministry door, but still...”

 

“Yes, and at one o'clock in the morning, no less,” Hermione said. “What on Earth was he doing there?”

 

“Hmm... I suspect he was being Imperiused,” Adira said.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Moldyshorts wanted something behind that door, he may have been wanting it since he first returned. Even though he's not exactly himself at the moment, his little minions are probably still trying to get it for him.”

 

Ron rolled his eyes. “I mean, why do you suspect You-Know-Who?”

 

“Because if Sturgis was there on Dumbledore's orders, well... he's an Auror, isn't he? He'd be able to go about the Ministry with ease. Unless he was sent after something nobody wanted the Ministry knowing he was after. I can't think of any reason Dumbledore would send someone after something in a top-security Ministry room, but Moldyshorts definitely would do something like that.”

 

“Or it could just be a frame-up by the Ministry,” Ron said. “You know, to discredit Dumbledore's side? No — listen!” he went on, dropping his voice dramatically at the threatening look on Hermione's face. “The Ministry suspects he's one of Dumbledore's lot so — I dunno — they lured him to the Ministry, and he wasn't trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they've just made something up to get him!”

 

“Do you know, I wouldn't be at all surprised if that were true. But both theories make sense, so it could be either one.”

 

Adira shrugged, and continued to eat. She didn't like Tom's chances of getting into the Ministry secretly, especially if he's still not back to full power after having to be killed again. And if he went into the Ministry openly, everyone would know he was back, which would get rid of Umbridge.

 

~

 

Having taken a copy of the recipe with them, they spent their morning break letting Iliana work out if there were any improvements she could make to potion. There were, but nothing she cared to try without running it past Snape first. And they couldn't do that; Snape would get suspicious and the compulsion charm didn't like that one whit. So they just decided to make the regular version to be safe.

 

But there was one component, a single drop of mackled malaclaw venom, that they couldn't easily get a hold of. And they didn't think Snape would agree to give it to them without a good reason. They thought maybe they could talk about wanting their blood protected after Voldemort, but when they ran through the conversation in their head, Snape got suspicious and suspected Umbridge. They could buy some, but as their next detention with Umbridge was tonight, that wouldn't do. So they would have to steal some... today.

 

Checking the Marauders Map for Snape, they saw he was in class. His office, they knew, was connected to the classroom. They didn't have his class today, so they wouldn't be able to sneak in there anytime soon. However... they did have a friend they could get help from.

 

Ducking into an unused classroom and putting up privacy spells, Adira called, “Dobby!”

 

With a CRACK, Dobby appeared. He was wearing an odd assortment of clothes, including mis-matched socks, kid's football shorts, a tie over a white A-shirt, and three baseball caps on his head.

 

“Miss Adira Potter is wanting Dobby for something? How can Dobby be helping Miss?”

 

“Hi, Dobby. First, a question: as a free elf being paid by Dumbledore, are you able to help with something that might be technically breaking the rules?”

 

“It is depending on what you is needing of Dobby, Miss. I can be doing that, but Dobby will only be helping break a rule if it is being very important, Miss.”

 

“I figured as much. Listen, can you keep a secret?”

 

Dobby saluted her. “Dobby is glad to keeps Miss Potter's secrets and his silence, Miss! As long as those secrets is not hurting nobody, Miss.”

 

“Good. Now, I can't tell you everything, because this situation is... well, think back to when we first met, Dobby. You wanted to tell me something, but you couldn't.”

 

Dobby's eyes went wide with worry. “Is Miss being controlled? Is you not able to speak of something like Dobby was?”

 

Adira remained silent. The compulsion charm wouldn't let her answer, but not answering was an answer itself for Dobby.

 

“I sees, Miss. And is Dobby right to thinks you cannot let me tell any teachers of your predicament?”

 

Again, her silence spoke volumes for him.

 

“Dobby understands, Miss. What is Miss needing of Dobby?”

 

“I have a potion recipe that can help my situation, but I can't get one of the ingredients. I hate to ask you to break rules, but the only way I can get what I need is to steal it, and time is of the essence. I need to brew the potion today, and it takes an hour to brew.”

 

“What ingredient is Miss needing?”

 

“A single drop of mackled malaclaw venom.”

 

“Ooh Miss, that is being a very unlucky substance.”

 

“Yes, I know. But the way the potion is set up, that venom will be transferring the unluckiness to someone else. But only if they try to hurt me a certain way.”

 

“And Miss is not able to say what way, in case it is forbidden?”

 

She couldn't answer again, but again it wasn't necessary.

 

“Miss can count on Dobby. Dobby can be getting what you needs!”

 

“Thanks, Dobby. Snape is teaching class right now. Can you get into his office without making your usual apparition crack?”

 

“It is being tricksier, Miss, but Dobby can be making a quiet pop if he is ordered to.”

 

Getting the picture, she said, “Then I order you to be quiet when you visit Professor Snape's office today.”

 

Dobby saluted again, concentrated a moment, then popped away with hardly any sound at all. Addy checked the Marauders Map, and it looked like Snape was still in the classroom. She wished she could see Dobby on the Map. She'd have to ask Sirius about how to add elves to the Map.

 

A couple minutes later, Dobby popped silently into the space he'd been in before, leaning against a desk for support. He looked winded, the poor soul.

 

“Wow, was being quiet when you apparate that difficult for you, Dobby?”

 

“That is being part of it, Miss,” he said when he got his breathing back under control. “The other part of it is being trying to find what Miss was looking for, and a bottle for it. Also, Professor Snapey almost came into the office. Dobby is lucky he is not being caught, Miss.”

 

Dobby handed her a very small bottle with a bit more than a single drop of malaclaw venom in it, but then it would be difficult to get out of the bottle if there was less than that. Luckily, the bottle also had an eye dropper installed in it.

 

“Thank you very much, Dobby. How can I repay you?”

 

“There is no need, Miss. Miss is already freeing Dobby, and that is being enough. Be safe, Miss. And if Dobby can be helping you any other way, do not be hesitating to ask.”

 

“Thanks again, Dobby. You're a great friend and a great elf.”

 

Dobby blushed scarlet and disappeared with a CRACK.

 

Going to the Room of Requirement, Iliana soon was walking into a full potions lab. There weren't any ingredients there, but she had that already in her bag. All she needed was the cauldron, the fire, and the water.

 

Iliana started up the potion, carefully following the instructions. She wondered, as she brewed, how and when the extra lessons with Snape would happen, with Umbridge looming about in the school now. Would he even want to, after what he'd said about them in their vision of Dumbledore's office?

 

She checked her watch, and was alarmed to find she'd be late for her next class if she didn't leave soon. The potion was basically done, it just needed to simmer for another half an hour. She turned the heat down, set an alarm, and called Dobby again.

 

“Miss is wanting Dobby again?”

 

“Sorry, Dobby, but I have to get to class. This potion needs to simmer for 30 minutes. When the alarm goes off, turn off the fire under it and let it sit for five minutes before putting it in this bottle.”

 

She set a large bottle down next to the cauldron, about a foot away.

 

“Then, when that's done, meet me in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom right before lunch, okay? Can you do that?”

 

Dobby nodded. “That is being simple, Miss. Much like cooking, but easier because Dobby is not doing any brewing.”

 

“Good. Now, you'll have to stay here while it simmers, because I don't know what will happen to it when the room reverts to normal. Can you do that, too?”

 

“Dobby can do that, Miss. Dobby is finishing his chores for the next two hours early today, so he can be doing that.”

 

“Thank you again, Dobby,” she said, hugging him and rushing out the door with her book bag.

 

Dobby got up on a stool the Room provided, and looked into the cauldron. He took a whiff, trying to get a clue about what they were brewing. He couldn't tell by scent what was in it, though. He was more familiar with cooking than potion brewing, after all. But then he looked to the side and noticed Miss Potter had left the recipe behind in her haste to get to class. He gasped at the title of the potion: 'A Potion to render stolen blood useless to dark wizards.'

 

He sighed sadly, wishing he could tell someone what he'd found. But even with being free, he was still bound to keep the secrets of his masters, and now as a Hogwarts elf, he had to keep her secrets, too, if she told him to. Also, he'd promised her to keep the secret. So, sad at this fact, he read the instructions to make sure there weren't any steps she'd forgotten to tell him about, then sent her notebook back up to her room with a wave of his hand, and kept an eye on the potion.

 

~

 

With the potion in her possession, Addy ducked into an unused classroom on her way to dinner to take a measure of it. But she couldn't remember if she was allowed to eat after the potion, and Dobby had told her she'd left the notebook behind and it was now in her room. So she skipped dinner, just to be on the safe side. She could always get something to eat from Dobby. In fact... just in case she might wake him up later, she called Dobby one last time before leaving the classroom she'd ducked into and asked him to leave something for her to eat that wouldn't spoil between now and midnight. That done, she let Chandra take over and they went on to their second-to-last detention with Umbridge.

 

This detention was much like the last, and lasted until midnight again. They were getting backed up on their schoolwork, and between another detention tomorrow after lunch and tryouts on Sunday, they didn't have a lot of time to do it all.

 

[Don't worry about that,] Hypatia told them. [I'll do it for you. I have ways of speeding up the process.]

 

'Thanks, Hypatia.'

 

[Yes well, I'd like you to get some more sleep.]

 

This detention did have one difference: after two hours the words 'I must not tell lies' did not fade from the back of their left hand (Chandra being left-handed was such a boon in this case) didn't go away this time when they were done, and the sudden silence of the blood quill no longer scratching the parchment made Umbridge look up.

 

“Ah,” she said softly, moving around her desk to examine his hand herself. :Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtn't it? You may leave for tonight.”

 

“Do I still have to come back tomorrow?” asked Chandra hopefully, picking up his schoolbag with his right hand rather than his smarting left one.

 

“Oh yes,' said Professor Umbridge, smiling as widely as before. “Yes, I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another evenings work.”

 

Chandra and the others had never before considered the possibility that there might be someone they hated more than Voldemort, but as he walked back towards Gryffindor Tower he had to admit they had found a strong contender. ~She's evil,~ he thought, as he climbed a staircase to the seventh floor, ~she's an evil, twisted, mad old-~

 

“Red Knight?” Chandra asked, dumbfounded.

 

He had reached the top of the stairs, turned right and almost walked into Ron, who was lurking behind a statue of Lachlan the Lanky, clutching his broomstick. He gave a great leap of surprise when he saw Chandra and attempted to hide his new Cleansweep Eleven behind his back.

 

“Red Knight, what quest brings you here at this late hour?” Chandra asked him.

 

“Er — nothing. What are you doing?”

 

“I am returning from the Herculean trial of Sorrow and Enmity's detention. But you are attempting to divert me, like Hercules of old did to that river. What is it that has you hiding here?”

 

“I'm hiding from Fred and George, if you must know,” said Ron. “They just went past with a bunch of first-years, I bet they're testing stuff on them again, I mean, they can't do it in the common room now, can they, not with Hermione and Neville there.”

 

He was talking in a very fast, feverish way. Chandra didn't know what to say. So Adira took over and they changed before Ron's eyes to her.

 

“But what have you got your broom for, you haven't been flying, have you?” she asked him.

 

“I — well — well, OK, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, all right?' Ron said defensively, turning redder with every second. 'I — I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh.”

 

“I'm not laughing,” said Addy. Ron blinked. “It's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you good?”

 

“I'm not bad,' said Ron, who looked immensely relieved at Addy's reaction. “Charlie, Fred and George always made me keep for them when they were training during the holidays.”

 

“So you've been practicing tonight?”

 

“Every evening since Tuesday . . . just on my own, though. I've been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn't been easy and I don't know how much use it'll be.” Ron looked nervous and anxious. “Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect.”

 

“If they do, Iliana or I will have some stern words for them. And if that doesn't work, we'll hex them seven ways from Sunday.”

 

“Thanks, Addy. Hey, what's that on the back of your hand?”

 

Addy, who had just scratched her nose with her free left hand, tried to hide it, but had as much success as Ron with his Cleansweep.

 

“It's just a cut — it's nothing — it's-”

 

But Ron had grabbed her forearm and pulled the back of her hand up level with his eyes. There was a pause, during which he stared at the words carved into the skin, then, looking sick, he released her.

 

“I thought you said she was just giving you lines?”

 

Harry hesitated, but after all, Ron had been honest with him, and he now knew the truth anyway; what was more, she'd felt the compulsion charm extend to Ron when he'd touched her arm. So she told Ron the truth about the hours Chandra had been spending in Umbridge's office.

 

“The old hag!” Ron said in a revolted whisper as they came to a halt in front of the Fat Lady, who was dozing peacefully with her head against her frame. “She's sick! Go to McGonagall, say something!”

 

“Can't,” she said with disgust. “Chandra figured out when he first touched the black quill that there's a compulsion charm on it to keep me from telling anyone. Only reason I can talk about it now is you figured it out. And you can't go to anyone either; the compulsion charm extended to you when you grabbed my arm.”

 

“Damn it!” Ron stage-whisper 'shouted.' “And the charm prevented you from warning me, I'll bet.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Damn it. And wait, did you say a black quill? And it does that to your hand?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So, a blood quill?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Bloody hell! Have you tried asking teachers about ways to prevent it being done to you?”

 

“Can't ask the teachers anything that would tip them off. Even thinking about it made the charm activate. Which isn't pleasant, I can tell you. But Hypatia left us some options. Iliana made a potion to render any blood taken that way useless for any kind of magical purposes. That wasn't easy to do, either. I had to rope Dobby into stealing an ingredient for me. Luckily, the potion isn't too difficult if you have all the ingredients, and I have enough left over for tomorrow. Possibly more days, but I really hope I won't need that much. But given what happened with Moldyshorts, I might want to get in the habit of taking this potion.”

 

“Well okay, I suppose. Is there a way to break compulsion charms, though?”

 

“I don't know.” Addy took a moment to think about it, and felt the pain of the charm activating, so she stopped. “Damn, she did a good job on that charm! I'd need outside help to break the charm, but we can't tell anyone, and if they touch either of us, the charm could affect them too. I'm sure the charm has limits, but still...”

 

“Yeah, it's a riddle,” Ron said.

 

“A conundrum indeed. Anyway, we should head back to the common room. Hold on a moment.”

 

She Disillusioned herself and Ron with her wand. They finished their trip back to the common room without being caught, though the Fat Lady looked suspicious at her voice coming out of nowhere, though she recognized her voice and let them in anyway.

 

~

 

Their final detention of the week the next day – a Saturday – went much as before. They took the potion to make their blood useless before going, and the words refused to go away even with their metamorph powers. About the only interesting thing to happen all day was waking up to find all their schoolwork for the week done, the auto-quills still in position and awaiting further commands. Hypatia must have set them all up and then gone straight to bed once she'd set them all in motion. They wondered how long that had taken, but got no response from her about it.

 

With their schoolwork done, Iliana spent the morning with Luna, walking along the grounds and talking, holding hands on occasion. It was a welcome experience after everything that had happened during the week.

 

Luna and Iliana continued spending time together after Iliana's detention, for Umbridge had let them go about 4 pm because the pain was bad enough Chandra couldn't have hidden his agony from her even if he'd been trying to. It had pained them more to see the evil woman so gleeful, but it gave Luna and Iliana more time to spend together, during dinner at the Gryffindor table together, and afterwards until just before curfew. She'd had to disguise the cuts in her hand with a bandage that was enchanted to look like her normal skin, and avoid letting Luna touch their left hand, but it worked.

 

Sunday was different, it being the tryouts. They'd set the tryouts to start after noon. Luna came to watch, as did Hermione and Javier. There were a lot of people there, in fact; far more than Iliana had anticipated. A number of them weren't even in their House. She dismissed those people right away, and they joined the others in the stands. But once that was dealt with, Iliana sent the rest through rigorous tests of speed, skill, and teamwork, each designed for different positions.

 

Ron, as it turned out, was pretty good at Keeping unless something undermined his confidence. Knowing how the Slytherins operated, she'd have to find some way to deal with that. Maybe have someone shouting insults at him during practice, to help him learn how to ignore such taunts? Well, something else to work on, because he was the best Keeper of those who had tried out.

 

By dinnertime, she had picked out the main team and the reserve team members. Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet returned as Chasers, the Weasley twins returned as Beaters, and Iliana was Seeker. Ginny Weasley made the team as a reserve Chaser _and_ a reserve  Seeker, but given their history of injuries, Iliana chose an extra reserve Chaser in case Ginny was already acting as a reserve Seeker. Maybe she was being overly cautious, but she didn't care. For all Wood had been fanatical about training, he'd overlooked having reserves, which had never made any sense to her.

 

Anyway, along with Ginny, the other reserve Chasers were  a new find named  Demelza Robins, and Dean Thomas. Demelza was particularly good at dodging Bludgers, which was the deciding factor for her.  Also as a reserve Chaser was Fay Dunbar, despite the fact she'd been trying out for the Beater position. She was disappointed not to get her preferred position, but seemed glad to be on the team at all, even if it was as a reserve Chaser.

 

For reserve Beaters, Iliana had a hard time picking two from the choices of Andrew Kirke, Jack Sloper, Jimmy Peakes, and Ritchie Coote. Peakes and Coote were younger than Kirke and Sloper, but were already the equal of the older boys in skill. Not being sure who to pick, she got Al's help; together, though that wasn't apparent to others, they looked into the eyes of each boy, letting Al get a good read of them.

 

% Thoughts? % she asked Al  when they were done .

 

(They've all got equal talent for sure,) Al said, (but I get the sense that Kirke and Sloper worked at least three times as hard to get as good as the other two. So I'd recommend Peakes and Coote for reserve Beaters,  since it should take less effort for them to improve .)

 

%  Right. Thanks. %

 

Aloud, she said, “Peakes, Coote, congratulations on making the reserve team.”

 

The two boys fist-pumped, Kirke and Sloper looking disappointed. She took the two boys aside before they left and told them she'd consider them for reserve reserves if something happened  to take out two sets of Beaters . They looked at her funny when she said this, but then she reminded them of all the crazy stuff that had happened over the years, and they seemed to understand. They went away a little less disappointed, anyway.

 

For reserve Keeper, Cormac McClaggen was the second best after Ron, but in the short time he'd been around them for tryouts, Iliana could already tell she  w ouldn't  be able to  stand the berk. Al agreed,  as did the others . But the problem was, she couldn't omit McClaggen from the reserve team without a solid reason,  and nobody else but Ron had done as good as he had .  So, sighing, she put McClaggen on the team as reserve Keeper anyway.

 

It occurred to her then to realize that if she included the reserve team, the  team was evenly split between genders, with 7 girls and 7 boys on the team as a whole. If the positions were equally split  by gender , they could have played girls versus boys, but all  four Beaters and both Keepers were boys, with only one Chaser being a boy.  Fay Dunbar was decent enough at playing Beater that Iliana could use her in a real emergency, but making her officially a reserve of a reserve was too paranoid, so it just remained an idle possibility.

 

“Alright, now that we're done, I want everyone on both the main team and the reserve team to stay behind, and everyone else to go away. Team, follow me,” Iliana said, leading them into the room that Wood had always used to talk with the team in private.

 

When they were all there, Iliana said, “Look, this is going to be difficult for everyone, because Wood was honestly a bit daft for not having any reserves, so even the veterans are going to have a hard time adjusting to training fourteen players all more or less at once.”

 

“We can manage, Iliana,” George said.

 

“Yeah, it'll be fine,” said Fred.

 

Iliana looked to the others. Everyone else seemed to agree.

 

“Yes, well, mainly this might be difficult on me in particular, having never done this before and going into it whole hog. By the way, I had an idea for setting someone up as a Deputy Captain just in case. Preferably somebody who can both manage the stress and who will be here next year, but if there's an absence of the latter, I'll be content with the former.

 

“The reason for this  new Deputy Captain role is primarily to take some of the load off of me  in my O.W.L. year , but an abundance of caution is another reason. Lots of crazy things have happened at Hogwarts the last few years, I'd rather have a system in place if the worst happens than let someone else scramble to pick up the pieces later.”

 

“ Who are you going to pick for Deputy Captain?” Angelina asked.

 

“Dunno yet. But so far, Angelina, I'm inclined toward picking one of the veteran Chasers.  So either Alicia, Angelina, or Katie. I'll think on it some more and come to a decision by next Saturday. ”

 

“ When's our first practice?” Ginny asked.

 

“ Next Saturday. We're going to be doing practice every Saturday and Sunday; all day long on Saturdays, minus meals of course, and just mornings on Sundays. That's the new training schedule until further notice. I thought about having some on weekdays, but there's so many reasons not to that I'll only add to that if it isn't sufficient.

 

“Anyway, I expect you all here at 7 am next Saturday morning.  And I do mean all of you. Understood? ”

 

“ Yes, Captain Potter!” came the reply.

 

“Good. Dismissed. Except for you two,” she said, pointing at the Weasley twins.

 

“Uh-oh George, first day of Quidditch and already we're in trouble,” Fred said.

 

Ignoring the twins at first, she waited for everyone to leave before putting up privacy spells in case someone – especially Ron – was trying to listen in.

 

“Oh boy,” George said when she put up the spells. “How deep in it are we, Iliana?”

 

“Not at all, yet. I only held you back because Ron is worried you two are going to make this difficult for him.  I know he's not spectacular, b ut he's the best Keeper we have,  and he'll be better without you two making fun of him . I expect both of you to treat all your teammates with equal respect, even the ones related to you. I want everyone to be comfortable with everyone else so we can work well as a team. And I know a thing or two about teamwork.”

 

The twins chuckled at her joke. She  waited for them to stop, then  continued on. “Anyway, so do try to be kind to all your teammates. But don't go overboard on it,  we don't want anyone being suspicious of your motives if we can help it . I'll be keeping an eye on you two, and if I'm not satisfied with your level of respect, I won't hesitate to bench you. Understood?”

 

Swallowing audibly, the twins nodded. “Yes, Iliana. We'll be good, we promise,” George said.

 

“Is that only during practice, or all the time?”  asked Fred.

 

“Well, since I can't police you all the time, just during practice. For now.”

 

“Understood, Captain Potter,” the twins said in stereo.

 

“Good. Now let's go have dinner while we still can.”

 

~

 

After dinner, Iliana went back to the dorms. When she opened the portrait of the Fat Lady, a wall of sound hit her. It was a party for all the people who had made Griffindor's Quidditch team, organized by the Weasley Twins. Ron came running over to her.

 

“Thanks for putting me on the team, Iliana!”

 

“You earned it, Ron,” she said, patting him on the back.

 

“Thanks. Have a Butterbeer.' Ron pressed a bottle on him. “I can't believe it —” where's Hermione gone?”

 

“She's there,” said Fred, who was also swigging Butterbeer, and pointed to an armchair by the fire. Hermione was dozing in it, her drink tipping precariously in her hand.

 

“Well, she said she was pleased when I told her,” said Ron, looking slightly put out.

 

“Let her sleep,” said George hastily. It was a few moments before Iliana noticed that several of the first-years gathered around them bore unmistakeable signs of recent nosebleeds. Iliana looked around covertly and found Neville, pointing this out to him.

 

“Come here, Ron, and see if Oliver's old robes fit you,” called Katie Bell, 'we can take off his name and put yours on instead.”

 

As Ron moved away, Angelina came striding up to Iliana. “Captain Potter?”

 

“Yes, Deputy Captain Johnson?”

 

“Speaking as your deputy captain, well... I know you and Ron are good friends, but he's... not great. Better than the others, of course, but not great.”

 

“Yeah, confidence issues. He's had a lot to live up to over the years. We'll iron the kinks out in training. Anyway, part of the problem is the twins, but I already spoke to them about easing up on Ron and treating the rest of their teammates with respect as well. It's not a bad lesson to drive home to everyone else, either, now I think on it.”

 

“Right,” Angelina said. “Well, glad to know you've got things covered.”

 

She nodded, and Angelina strolled back to Alicia Spinnet. Iliana moved over to sit next to Hermione, who awoke with a jerk as she sat next to Hermione.

 

“Oh, Iliana, it's you . . . good about Ron, isn't it?” she said blearily. “I'm just so — so — so tired,” she yawned. “I was up til midnight writing a letter to Viktor.”

 

“Must've been a long letter,” Iliana quipped.

 

“Yes, it was.”

 

Iliana sighed. “Well I'm kinda tired too. I know they probably all expect me to join in the festivities, but today was difficult if fun, and tomorrow is Monday. So I'm off to bed. Tell Ron and Neville for me, would you?”

 

“Oh no,” said Hermione, looking relieved, “if you're going that means I can go too, without being rude. I'm absolutely exhausted.”

 

“Well good night, Hermione.”

 

“Good night, Iliana.”

 

With that, the two went off to their respective dorms for the night.

 

~

 

They woke up the next morning bright and early, dreading the day ahead. Given what class they had first, they let Chandra have the reins. He was soon down at breakfast, but called Dobby to let him know he wanted vegetarian meals today. While he ate, Hedwig dropped off a note for him from Sirius.

 

_Dear pup,_

 

_If you haven't gotten more detentions by then, meet me in my teacher's quarters for a private dinner, just the two of us, so we can discuss your first week some more, if you want. Go to the west wing of the fifth-floor corridor and look for portraits of famous witches and wizards in the fields that Hogwarts teaches. Mine is behind the portrait of Godric Griffindor! The password is “Snivelus.”_

 

_Love you, pup!_

_\---Sirius_

 

Chandra wrote a quick note on a conjured piece of parchment saying “I would be thrilled to come visit you, Sirius. But please change the password to something else, it is not nice to make fun of Professor Snape. - Chandra.” He then sent it back with Hedwig, and went about having breakfast.

 

After breakfast, Chandra walked with Ron and Hermione to History of Magic. Ron was looking at Chandra and smirking while trying to keep from laughing, while Hermione was looking concerned. Given their emotions, he figured they assumed Chandra wouldn't be able to handle getting through this class without more detentions. ~Oh ye of little faith,~ he thought.

 

They got to class, and once more Umbridge was already waiting at her desk for them to join her. Again she looked like a large toad. Chandra wondered if, like Voldemort, she had done some kind of dark ritual that had mutated her appearance.

 

“Well, good afternoon!” she said when finally the whole class had sat down.

 

Knowing from the last time what was expected, they all echoed back, “Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.”

 

“Excellent. Glad to see such fast learners in my class. Wands away and quills out, please.”

 

Nobody had bothered to get out their wands, but there was a bit of activity as people got out quills and parchment. Umbridge got up and used her wand to put words on the board. She was continuing her very biased history lesson, which made it sound like werewolves were horrible people. Chandra decided to consider it a look into the psychology of a racist instead of as facts, a point of view that made it a lot easier to detach himself from the content and write without feeling the need to respond.

 

When she was done with that, she told them to get their new history textbooks out and read chapter two. (They'd read chapter one last time after she returned from McGonagall's office.)

 

“There will be no need to talk,” Umbridge reminded them all.

 

Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. Chandra wondered dully whether there were enough chapters in the book to keep them reading through all this years lessons and was on the point of checking the contents page when he noticed that Hermione had her hand in the air again.

 

Professor Umbridge had noticed, too, and what was more, she seemed to have worked out a strategy for just such an eventuality. Instead of trying to pretend she had not noticed Hermione she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face to face, then she bent down and whispered, so that the rest of the class could not hear, “What is it this time, Miss Granger?”

 

“I've already read Chapter Two,” said Hermione.

 

“Well then, proceed to Chapter Three.”

 

“I've read that too. I've read the whole book.”

 

Professor Umbridge blinked but recovered her poise almost instantly.

 

“Well then, you should be able to tell me what Ms. Troozerfyr says about about Grindelwald's war in chapter 16.”

 

“She says that Grindelwald was a terrorist whose ideas were based not in good ideas about blood purity, but that he was instead very anti-establishment and targeted the pureblood elite of the continent. She goes on to say that without the pureblood elites to rule the continent, the countries there have become steeped in decadence and flooded by 'ridiculous Muggle ideas' like modernizing magic with magical versions of Muggle devices like light bulbs, labor rights, laws against house elf abuse, books written with indexes and tables of contents as well as fact-checking books before publishing, finding ways to magic-proof Muggle appliances like televisions, and legalizing same-sex marriage.”

 

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows and Chandra knew she was impressed, against her will.

 

“But I disagree,” Hermione continued.

 

Professor Umbridge's eyebrows rose a little higher and her gaze became distinctly colder.

 

“You disagree?” she repeated.

 

“Yes, I do,” said Hermione, who, unlike Umbridge, was not whispering, but speaking in a clear, carrying voice that had by now attracted the attention of the rest of the class. “Ms. Troozerfyr sounds like one of the Death Eaters, opposed to Muggles and Muggle-borns on principle. All those 'Muggle ideas' she looks down on all sound to me like great ideas.”

 

“Oh, you do, do you?” said Professor Umbridge, forgetting to whisper and straightening up. “Well, I'm afraid it is Ms. Troozerfyr's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger.”

 

“But —” Hermione began.

 

“That is enough,” said Professor Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before them, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. “Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor house.”

 

There was an outbreak of muttering at this.

 

“What for?” Ron asked angrily.

 

“For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions,” said Professor Umbridge smoothly. “I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more licence, but as neither of them — with the possible exception of Professor Binns, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects — would have passed a Ministry inspection.”

 

Hermione glanced over at Chandra, who said nothing. Even Umbridge looked at him, like she was disappointed he hadn't had an outburst in Lupin's defense. But he just sat there, looking politely attentive.

 

Emboldened by his lack of response, or perhaps just trying to goad him, Umbridge spoke again.

 

“ History is about facts, not opinions. As such, there is no need at all for students to be speaking in my class, unless I have called on them after they have raised their hand, of course.”

 

Dean raised his hand at once. So did several other people.

 

“Mr. Finnegan?” she said, calling on Seamus after ignoring Dean.

 

“Well ma'am, I'm no expert, but even I know history isn't about facts. It's about points of view. Like the history between Muggle Britain and Muggle Ireland, which affected us Irish witches too. For a long time, the history there was written by the Brits, and painted the Irish as barbarians who were uplifted to civilization by the Brits for our own good. But we Irish say the Brits came in and robbed us blind, nearly wiped out our whole culture, and killed thousands of people either outright or by ignoring us when we were stricken by famines. So history is, well, stories. There's multiple points of view on the same issues, but sounds to me like this book--” he held up their history book “--is one-sided, told by someone on You-Know-Who's side, like Hermione said.”

 

Looking condescendingly at Seamus, she said, “You are mistaken, Mr. Finnegan.  Ms. Troozerfyr was not on the side of the Death Eaters. The Death Eaters were an extremist group. No matter how many good ideas they may have had, they went way too far with wanton violence, seeking to overthrow the rightful government. They may have had a point that the government of the time was leaning towards adopting the ridiculous Muggle ideas mentioned in the textbook, but that does not excuse their law-breaking, murdering, and cruelty. A great many respectable members of pure-blooded society died tragically in that conflict, or worse.” Here, she glanced at Neville. “But now that group's leader has been dead for over a decade, and all its members have been rounded up and put in Azkaban. The Death Eaters no longer exist.”

 

Chandra felt a great surge of rage building inside him, coming from Alastair. He closed his eyes and silently appealed to Hypatia and Mother to prevent Al from doing anything. But the rage built, until things around the room began to rattle. Umbridge looked from the rattling items to Chandra. He still had his eyes closed, but he could feel this all the same. He also felt her approaching him from her position up front.

 

“Mr. Potter, we are having class right now. You may have felt like you could sleep through Professor Binns's classes, but I will not tolerate it in mine.”

 

He opened his eyes, struggling to talk without letting Al's rage shine through.

 

“I was not sleeping. I was...” he trailed off.

 

“Yes? Do go on.”

 

“ I was meditating, in order to keep from being disruptive, Professor Umbridge.”

 

She grinned maliciously at him. “I see. Is that why things were shaking around the room? You are trying to contain your temper?”

 

“It would be more accurate to say I am attempting to contain Alastair's temper, Professor Umbridge.”

 

“Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for talking  about imaginary people.”

 

(I'll show you imaginary, you walking sack of cat vomit and crushed horse testicles,) Al thought so loudly in their head that Chandra had to clench the desk with white knuckles to keep it from escaping his lips.

 

When he didn't respond, she looked disappointed again. She was talking again, but Chandra couldn't follow what she was saying, he was too busy trying to repress images from Al of Umbridge turned inside out with magic, or eaten alive by a pack of wild dogs, or both at once. At these thoughts, Chandra noticed the temperature in the room drop low enough to make some other people in the room shiver. He looked at his hands, and saw frost forming around them.

 

Umbridge watched him, seeming to weigh whether or not his accidental magic was enough to warrant giving him a detention again. Then she smiled and went back to talking. She might have called on someone else, but everyone was glancing nervously at Chandra and not speaking.

 

“ Of course, I understand why everyone is still afraid after all this time. The Death Eaters were a very dangerous group, and there are a great many lies spread by anti-establishment dissidents seeking to defame upstanding members of society by making unfounded accusations against them. So it is because of these lies that fear continues to fester, for no good reason. But what can we expect from mindless beasts like the dangerous former Professor Lupin?”

 

The rage inside  them had spiked –  coming from Adira this time – at the “upstanding citizens/unfounded accusations” sentence, forcing Chandra to try harder to contain it.

 

“Professor Lupin was the best teacher we've ever had in this class!” Dean Thomas shouted.

 

“I did not see your hand, Mr. Thomas!”

 

Ron raised his hand, and she called on him. Ron then repeated what Dean had said.

 

“Mr. Lupin should never have been allowed into this building for even a minute, neither as a teacher nor as a student. I do not find it to be a coincidence that one of his best friends became a Death Eater, and another of his friends tried to murder that man and went to Azkaban until he was found to be innocent, and the truth of Mr. Pettigrew came out. But as I say, it is not likely a coincidence. People with animals inside of them are dangerous beasts who need to be put down for society's own good.”

 

At this, Tier joined Al's anger, and now Chandra had to suppress the urge to growl and make his eyes glow red. Even putting all his effort into controlling himself, Chandra felt parts of the skin of his arm turn scaly.

 

Thinking fast, Chandra appealed to Hypatia, and they suddenly fell deaf and mute.  Umbridge kept talking, but since they had no idea what she was saying now, it wasn't adding any fuel to the fire. Chandra filled their inner space with the prophecy about Umbridge's influence waning on endless repeat, and Iliana added images of Luna to the mix. Slowly, the rage that had been boiling over simmered down, the pressure going down bit by bit.

 

They didn't know how long it was before Umbridge noticed that they weren't responding at all, but eventually she noticed they were calming down, which was disappointing her. She walked over to them and spoke, but as they were still deaf and mute, they had no idea what was being said. Chandra settled for looking curiously at her and miming that he'd gone deaf and mute.

 

She was getting angry now, so Hypatia turned their hearing back on. But they were still mute.

 

“---to pay attention in class, Mr. Potter!”

 

'Sorry,' he signed in British wizarding sign language, 'I have gone mute.'

 

“Stop this meaningless gesticulation at once and answer me!”

 

“Professor,” Hermione said, “one of them is mute and speaks in sign language. I don't know it myself, but he has a device that translates it into speech. Or he did. Tier, do you still have that device?”

 

Chandra nodded.

 

“Miss Granger, I know for a fact Mr. Potter can speak. He is choosing not to. He is playing imaginary games and disrupting class!”

 

“Professor,” Hermione responded, “there are legitimate mental conditions that cause people with the condition to go temporarily mute. Setting aside for now the legitimacy of Multiple Personality Disorder, it's entirely possible he has one of those conditions and legitimately can't speak right now. This can be resolved if you let him use the translator device.”

 

Umbridge looked at Hermione angrily. If Chandra had to guess, she was angry that Hermione had undercut any excuse she might have had to give him more detentions.

 

“ Fine, if it is on your person, you may get it.”

 

He got into their bag and hunted for the device, which they kept around in case of emergency. Soon they had it pulled out and set up.

 

'I said Sorry, I have gone mute, Professor,' he signed. The device translated it into speech for him.

 

“Yes, we've figured that out by now. But you weren't paying attention, either, Mr. Potter.”

 

'Sorry,' he signed again. 'I was trying to calm myself, and wasn't paying attention. It won't happen again.'

 

It wasn't even a lie; Hypatia had gotten Mother's help putting the others into an artificial sleep. Chandra's emotions were solely his own at the moment.

 

“Be that as it may, ten points from Gryffindor for not paying attention, Mr. Potter.”

 

The rest of the class went fairly smoothly, as Chandra had no more problems with his temper after that, no matter how incendiary she tried to be. Guessing that Al and Tier might blow the roof off the room when they awoke to review the collective memory again, he decided to keep those two from waking up for the rest of the day.

 

As such, the rest of the day went pretty well, despite having Potions after History. Iliana stayed behind after Potions to ask Professor Snape about the lessons they'd been having together. Once finding out she had managed to avoid more detentions (barely), he told her that their next one would be Friday after dinner, and if anyone asked, it was a detention.

 

After double Ancient Runes, Iliana went to the west wing of the fifth-floor corridor and looked for portraits of famous witches and wizards. She saw a bunch if names she was only partly familiar with, more she didn't recognize at all, but finally she found Godric Gryffindor. He was tall and had red hair and beard.

 

The portrait spoke to her, and she didn't even recognize the language.

 

“Sorry, what?”

 

It repeated itself.

 

“Sorry, I don't know that language. But uh, the password is 'Snivellus.'”

 

Godric said something else in that unknown language, but opened up. She went inside into a short corridor, closed the portrait behind her, and walked down the short corridor to a second door. She knocked on that.

 

“Who is it?” Sirius asked through the closed door.

 

“Iliana,” she said.

 

“It's unlocked!”

 

She turned the knob and opened the door, stepping in. The room – some sort of living room – was spacious and yet not too much so, and of course was largely decorated in Gryffindor colors of red and gold. Sirius was sitting in a very comfortable looking black leather chair that didn't match the rest of the décor. He had himself and the chair facing the door, and he was grinning at her. She closed the door behind her.

 

“So you didn't get any more detentions, pup?”

 

“From Umbridge? No. But it was a close one. Al and Tier both nearly lost their tempers.”

 

“How bad?”

 

She told the whole story to him, including parts Chandra hadn't been aware of himself while Hypatia had been the only one listening, because she hated not knowing things she was there for. Hypatia had even kept the parts they'd missed while they were deaf, because of course she hadn't been deaf herself, but had kept what she'd heard from Chandra until now.

 

Not surprising her at all, Sirius was angry about what Umbridge was saying about both them and Remus, and to a lesser degree about the Death Eaters. Still, his anger was nowhere near Al's or Tier's.

 

“So how come they didn't destroy the school or kill Umbitch?” Sirius asked.

 

“Hypatia and Mother made them sleep. They're still asleep. I thought I'd keep them that way at least until our private dinner was over. Anyway, if it's all the same to you, I'll let Addy come forward instead of me.”

 

Not waiting for a response from him, they switched places, and Adira stood there where Iliana had been.

 

“Hi there, Addy. Not that I'm complaining, but why did Iliana scarper?”

 

“Oh, that. She uh... well she considers me the 'original.' They all do, I think. Yeah, even Hypatia, I can feel that. Anyway, what it means to most of them is that I'm the one who gets priority access to the body, since I was here first. I'm not complaining, but honestly... I can't remember being without Iliana or Al. The others are newer to me, but I'm pretty sure Iliana and Alastair have always been there with me. My earliest memory includes thoughts that, in retrospect, were from those two.”

 

“So what's your earliest memory, pup? You can tell me while we go to the dining room together.”

 

“Okay,” she said, following Sirius into a nearby room with a dining table built for probably 10 people, and sitting down across from Sirius.

 

Dobby appeared, dressed in  his previous absurd mix of mis-matched clothes. He was carrying a covered tray into the room and set it down in front of them.

 

“Hi Dobby, what's for dinner?”

 

“Hello Miss Adira Potter! Dobby has got several things for Sir and Miss to choose from. This is being pizza,” he said, lifting the cover off the tray and exposing a delicious looking pepperoni pizza. “And soon Dobby will be bringing in some chicken tandoori. Dobby is learning all sorts of new recipes thanks to Mr. Sirius Black, Miss!”

 

“That sounds amazing, Dobby, thank you.”

 

Dobby giggled at the praise, and skipped off to fetch the chicken tandoori.

 

“So you were saying about your earliest memory? Unless you'd rather not. I know those relatives of yours weren't very nice.”

 

“It's not too bad. Mostly they didn't feed me enough, and were emotionally abusive and neglectful. It could've been a whole lot worse.”

 

“Sorry to hear that. Wish I could've been there for you.”

 

“The past is the past. Anyway, my earliest conscious memory – not counting memories dredged up from my subconscious by Dementor exposure – was of Vernon yelling at me about something again. I was six. I don't remember what he was yelling about specifically, but I remember the voice I now know of as Iliana having a silent argument with the proto-Alastair about what to do about the situation. Iliana just wanted to weather the storm patiently and apologize for whatever I'd supposedly done, but Al was adamant we run away from home and tell the authorities. Iliana won that argument, though; there wasn't enough evidence at that point to trust that the authorities would be able to help me. And later, when there  _was_ enough evidence, we...”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Well, by then we'd learned that adults either didn't want to know these things, or couldn't help even though they tried, or else didn't believe that such 'fine, upstanding citizens' as the Dursleys could be capable of such things.”

 

She clutched the table, and things around the room began to rattle. Sirius looked up in alarm at this, and Dobby – who had just come in from the kitchen – was looking nervous as well. Adira forced herself to calm down with her occlumency.

 

“Sorry about that, Dobby, Sirius. But 'defaming upstanding citizens with unfounded accusations' is something someone told me when I was eight, nearly word for word, after I had tried for the umpteenth time to report the Dursleys for child neglect and emotional abuse. It's a bit of a sore spot for me.”

 

Dobby set the container of chicken tandoori down and took the lid off. Since Sirius didn't look capable of speaking yet, Dobby spoke instead.

 

“You is not needing to apologize to Dobby, Miss. Dobby understands. Dobby is wishing he could have helped you, Miss, but he is not knowing back then where you is being kept, nor what is going on.”

 

“Well said, Dobby,” Sirius said. The elf blushed at the praise.

 

“Thank you for cooking, Dobby. It looks amazing.”

 

Dobby giggled again at the praise and bowed, leaving the room. Addy scooped some of the tandoori onto her dish,  took a slice of pizza and set it on another plate, and started to eat  the tandoori .

 

“ Pizza and Indian food in one meal; kind of an odd mix, but I like it,” Addy said.

 

“ Yeah, and if you save your crusts, you can use them to mop up the extra sauce from the tandoori.  I've been eating a lot of both since my release,” Sirius said. “Finding someone to teach Dobby how to make them has saved me a lot of trips into London.”

 

After they'd been eating for several minutes, Adira thinking quietly most of that time, Sirius asked her, “Knut for your thoughts?”

 

She set her pizza down. “It's just that  I'm a little afraid to wake up Tier and Al now. When they review our memories and find out all of what Umbitch said, they're going to... I don't know what, but last time Al was this angry, McGonagall confronted him for shaking the whole building, and he had to be put to sleep for a while.”

 

“Well, you can't keep them locked up forever. And you shouldn't keep them too long, or they'll just be even angrier for being locked up so long.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

“Er... if you don't mind saying, what was Al angry enough about to shake the whole building?”

 

Adira's face flushed. “Oh, uh... I'd rather not say.”

 

“Addy,” he said in a slightly stern but also understanding tone.

 

She sighed. “Fine. It was after we overheard the popular misconception about how and why you'd ended up in Azkaban. Al was angry enough he'd probably have killed you if you'd suddenly appeared at that point.”

 

“Oh. Well, I'm glad it all turned out for the best.  Maybe this Umbridge situation will, too. ”

 

They continued to talk about the first week back while eating, and Adira told him about the tryouts and who Iliana had chosen for the team. By the time dinner was done and Dobby was starting to clean up, Al and Tier had surfaced again. They were annoyed and angry at Umbridge, but much calmer about it, only shaking the room once  before she left for Gryffindor tower .

 

“ By the way,” she said before leaving, “do you know what language Godric Gryffindor's portrait speaks? I don't recognize the language.”

 

Sirius shrugged. “I think it might be some Anglo or Saxon language. Not sure. I don't really know, that's just a guess.”

 

“Right. Makes sense.”

 

~

 

Later that night, as Adira, Hermione, Ron, and Neville were working on their homework more or less together, a familiar owl landed in the window. It turned out to be from Percy, and was for Adira.

 

“What's perfect Percy writing to you for?” Ron asked derisively.

 

“No idea,” she said, opening the letter and reading it.

 

_Adira Potter,_

 

_I have heard that you are still hanging out with my brother Ronald. A most alarming thing to hear about, I as_ _s_ _ure you. My brother has made a mistake siding with you and Dumbledore on this, it will be the end of his career before it's even begun. On no account are you to continue being friends with him, do you understand me? Now I know we've got on well in the past, you've taken my side on things, but I cannot abide trouble-makers. You are one such trouble maker, so I am officially cutting ties with you. Our friendship is over, for you are a disruptive influence. Under no condition are you to continue to associate with my brother or sister. Ronald especially, but also Ginny; the twins are trouble-makers enough as is, so I won't try to stop you being friends with them. Still, keep away from the rest of my_ _siblings_ _. I have worked too hard to have you ruin this for me now. Don't bother responding, I won't be answering. Even if you beg, I still will not answer._

 

_W_ _ith that said, please turn this letter over to Ron, so I can speak to him._ _O_ _h Ronald, Ronald, Ronald._ _R_ _onald, what do I say?_ _K_ _nowing you as I do, I doubt I can convince you to keep away from Potter, but for the sake of your career, I beg you to stay away from them._ _I_ _know they can be very scary and violent when riled, so I understand if you're feeling too scared to abandon them, but you really must._ _N_ _ow that I'm with the Ministry, I can help you get away if you need help with that._ _G_ _oodness forbid if you were hurt by associating with them, Ron._ _W_ _ith the things about to happen at Hogwarts, even moreso._ _I_ _think you'll find it easier to leave Potter's side safely in the coming weeks, if all goes as planned._ _T_ _he Minister and Professor Umbridge have a plan that is now coming to fruition, read the Daily Prophet tomorrow at breakfast to see what I mean._ _H_ _ard work of months has gone into making this possible, and it will be glorious._ _H_ _eh, I almost wish I was there to see it myself, but of course I have my duties at the Ministry that are very important._ _E_ _ver since last June, I have been working at Junior Undersecretary to the Minister, which has become a much more important role since Professor Umbridge has stepped down from her Undersecretary position to become a professor at Hogwarts._ _A_ _t Hogwarts, with her imminent new position there, she will be able to tell the Minister exactly what is going on at Hogwarts._ _D_ _umbledore will not be able to keep secrets from the Ministry._ _M_ _ark my words, Ronald, times are about to change, and for your own good you should change with them and spill any secrets about Potter to Professor Umbridge that you are aware of._ _A_ _ll will become clear tomorrow._ _S_ _o think very carefully about which side of history you want to be on._ _T_ _omorrow, it begins._ _E_ _verything changes then, for the better in my humble opinion._ _R_ _on, keep that in mind, and remember that I love you, even if our parents are on the wrong side of this battle_ _._

 

_D_ _oubtless you may be tempted to tell me to mind my own business._ _O_ _nly time will tell whether you tell me to shove it or pick the winning side, the side of the Ministry._ _N_ _ice people like Professor Umbridge are in place to make choosing the Ministry even easier._ _T_ _ell her if you need any help with Potter._ _T_ _ell her anything you know about them; weaknesses, their nefarious plans, if you see them going anywhere unusual._ _E_ _t cetra._ _L_ _ike I would, in your place._ _L_ _ike any patriotic citizen should._ _M_ _ake the right choice, Ron, and pick the Ministry._ _Y_ _ou could, alternately, keep your head down and not make matters any worse._ _F_ _red and George may choose to side with Potter and Dumbledore too, so if you see them up to any funny business, you should tell on them at onec._ _A_ _t once, you understand?_ _M_ _other would want you to anyway, you know how those two are._ _I_ _have no doubt they'd make trouble just for trouble's sake just as easily._ _L_ _ikely you know that already._ _Y_ _ou don't know where their loyalties are, though_ _._

 

_N_ _ow that I've said my piece, I can soon end this letter._ _O_ _bey the Ministry, Ron._ _T_ _rust Professor Umbridge._ _Y_ _ou'll be glad you did, in the end._ _E_ _ventually, you'll see I'm right._ _T_ _rust me on this_ _._

 

_With love;_

_Percy_

 

Adira handed the letter to Ron and watched him read it. His face got redder and redder the more he read of it. Finally, he slammed the letter down on the table.

 

“If you want to end your association with me, Ron,” Adira said, trying to sound like the letter was a joke, “I swear I won't get violent.”

 

“He is — ” Ron said jerkily, tearing Percy's letter in half “the world's — ” he tore it into quarters “biggest — ” he tore it into eighths “git.” He threw the pieces into the fire.

 

“Come on, we've got to get this finished,” he said briskly to Adira, pulling his Potions homework back toward himself.

 

Hermione was looking at Ron with an odd expression on her face. But she soon shrugged and went back to work herself. Neville, for his part, hadn't read the letter at all and was very confused.

 

Adira tried working on her homework too, but Percy's letter on top of everything else made that difficult. Al's anger had cooked down to a sort of concentrated loathing for Umbridge, and Tier was feeling much the same. But something about the letter was niggling at her. She was familiar with how Percy wrote, and something felt off about that one. Off in a familiar way, no less. But she couldn't put her finger on it.

 

Finally, she gave up and went upstairs to her room on the excuse she was going to bed. Once there, she used Hypatia's perfect recall to re-write the entire letter, spending an hour and a half staring at it, trying to figure out what was weird about it.

 

[The cadence is wrong. It sounds believable as something someone would write, except for a few oddities here and there,] came Hypatia's analysis.

 

'Oh?' she thought.

 

[Yes. Like here, he capitalized Et cetra and made it its own sentence. Who does that?]

 

'Yeah, especially if they're sticklers for rules like Percy. He'd be a stickler for grammar rules, too.'

 

[Exactly. Hmm... but no, that's absurd,] Hypatia thought-spoke to them in response to some private thought of hers. [Simply absurd it could work. Could it really be that simple?]

 

Hypatia grabbed control of their right arm and started circling the first letters in each sentence. Then she wrote each letter down at the bottom of the parchment. Soon, they had a message: I AM ON YOUR SIDE. WORKING WITH HEADMASTER. DON'T TELL MY FAMILY. NOT YET.

 

“Wow,” Adira said aloud.

 

She had no idea what to say or do in response to this. All she knew for sure was she wanted more information, because she had so very many questions. Foremost on the list was 'Why keep this a secret from his family?' Then she pictured how the Weasleys would react if they knew Percy was faking being a gigantic git, and answered her own question. So next up was 'Why tell me he's on my side?' Then 'Surely this message didn't get past the Ministry? Surely nobody at the Ministry is THAT stupid?' Then she realized it had taken her over an hour to see the pattern herself, and wouldn't have even gotten the message at all after Ron hadn't torn it apart, if it hadn't been for Hypatia's perfect memory. Possibly Percy thought Ron wouldn't tear up a letter addressed to her. Which, come to think of it, she'd have to chastise him about that later.

 

But what to do with this information? She saw the value in not telling the Weasleys. Why had he told her, though? Sure, it wouldn't really change how she acted, but how was Percy to know that? Also, had there been more secret messages there? She scanned the rest of the letter for another hour, but didn't find anything. Still, that didn't rule out a message only she could activate, which would be gone now to the flames. If he'd had anything else to say at all, of course; she had no reason to think he had, aside from the fact that he hadn't been very forthcoming with information.

 

She considered writing back, but the letter had been adamant she not do that. Of course, it had said a lot of things she was certain were false, like the constant repeated calls to Ron to sell her out or stop associating with her. So she couldn't assume the part about writing back was serious. Maybe she should write an angry letter back? Yes, that seemed the sort of thing the Ministry would expect her to do, if they'd read the letter but somehow missed the secret message.

 

So what to say in her response? Did she need to say anything at all? Well, she certainly wanted to tell him he was a bit of an idiot for assuming Ron wouldn't destroy the letter. Shouldn't have told her to hand Ron the letter to read, the berk. Percy seriously needed some lessons in secrets and lies.

 

Hypatia led her to their trunk, where she dug out a book about ways to send secret messages to people using magic. She skimmed through it, looking for useful things that the Ministry might not check for. Then when that ran dry, she had Hypatia think of something. Putting her unusually bright mind to the task, Hypatia soon had a brand new way of sending a message to Percy, something she knew would get past the Ministry's secrecy sensors. She chuckled at how clever it was. First burning the copy of Percy's letter she didn't need, she and Hypatia set to work.

 

~

 

Percy Weasley had just gotten to sleep for the night when he heard a tapping on his window, waking him up. He sat up and looked at the window, seeing the snowy white Hedwig perched on his windowsill, waiting for him with a letter around her leg. He got up and opened the window for her, removing her letter and giving her some owl treats before reading the letter. Percy also tried to coax Hedwig out of the window, but she refused with a squawk, so he let her stay for now.

 

The letter was, on first glance, a scathing and rage-filled admonition that certainly lived up to the “Potter is crazy and violent” image, but which Percy saw through at once. He circled the letters of the first sentences, which at first didn't seem to spell anything. But then he noticed it was backwards, so he reversed the order of the letters and soon had the message: WHEN ALONE, CAST PWRFUL FINITE ON LETTER.

 

It was... a strange request. But he did as it said.

 

“Finite!”

 

Nothing happened, so Percy ramped up the power, and tried again. Still nothing. Trying one last time, something finally happened. The ink of the angry letter vanished, apparently having been conjured. The parchment also turned into Muggle notebook paper; apparently, it had been transfigured. And now he had another message written in pencil on it, plain as day: “You are an idiot.” Beneath that was a slew of maths. These maths were upside down and at an angle in relation to the rest of the message. Most people would assume she'd torn a page out of an old maths homework notebook to write the message for him. In fact... the maths were far more advanced than even seventh-year Arithmancy would have in it.

 

But it was more clever than that, even. The maths were far more complex than they appeared to be. Hard enough to be difficult for most wizards or witches to solve them, but simple enough to be dismissed as some odd sort of Muggle maths. Suspecting this was the true message, he worked out the equation over the next 30 minutes.

 

The answer he got from solving the equation was confusing at first. It was a spell analysis. To most people good enough at maths to solve the equation, that's where they'd stop, convinced that it was just a page torn from Arithmancy work for school or self-study. He was confused and impressed; he hadn't known that the Potters were even in Arithmancy, nor that they were this good at it. But then, he didn't know much about their classes.

 

He might have given up too, if it hadn't been for the fact that they'd cast such a powerful transfiguration on this paper that, knowing them, they wouldn't waste that kind of effort just to tell him he was an idiot. So he studied the spell analysis in more detail, working out from the information present what spell it was. He soon discovered it was an entirely new spell, which he knew because this spell had some specifics to it that were basically a signature. Adira had somehow managed to create a wand spell with a silent incantation that only he, Percy, would be able to cast. Further, he could only cast it on Hedwig.

 

Percy sat there, stunned. Then he checked his work, comparing it to his Arithmancy books. Then he checked a third time, just to be sure. There was no doubt; for the purposes of sending him a message, Adira (or someone else in her collective) had invented an entirely new branch of wand spells, one that used knowledge of someone's wand core, wand wood, and magical signature to make it so only he, with his wand, could cast this spell. And, because the spell factored in Hedwig's own magical signature, the spell could only be cast on Hedwig.

 

Which was simply flabbergasting! There was no way someone could have previously invented a type of spells that only one specific person would be able to cast, much less which could only be cast on one specific other being, without it having been huge news, and a major part of the N.E.W.T. curriculum for Arithmancy. If Adira published this, she could be world-famous for something much more important than surviving a Killing Curse. If this worked the way he thought it would, it was an even more secure form of communication than using messenger Patronuses. Of course, the downside was that she'd have to come up with an entirely different one to send a different message, and he wouldn't be able to send a message back the same way, because he didn't have the Arithmancy skills to do that. He doubted he ever would.

 

Curious to see if it actually worked, he practiced the wand movement for a few minutes before turning to Hedwig.

 

“I'm not sure if this will work, but I expect she told you something about it, Hedwig.”

 

Hedwig nodded, a strangely human gesture for a bird.

 

“Alright then.”

 

He held up his wand, did the wand movements, and cast the silent spell on Hedwig. It was a good thing it was a silent spell; the incantation for it would have been a tongue-twister if he'd had to say it aloud.

 

Immediately, Hedwig began to glow with an aura of blue light. The light created a magical shield around the two of them, which cut off all sounds from the London traffic outside his window. Their privacy secured, Adira's voice issued from Hedwig's body as the owl stared impassively at him.

 

“Percy, you idiot! The Ministry might have seen that message! Though I'll admit I almost didn't see it myself. Ron destroyed it before I saw the message. It was just your luck I made a copy, and figured it out later. Anyway, I have so many questions, but that will have to wait. This method of---”

 

The message cut off mid-sentence, and shortly after that, the glow vanished and the spell was broken.

 

Percy tried the spell again in case something had gone wrong on his end, but no, it appeared the message had cut off on her end. Well, of course a spell that amazing had to have some kind of drawback, aside from the fact that the spell was well beyond N.E.W.T. level, a fact that restricted its use. He thought Dumbledore or You-Know-Who could probably create spells like it if they knew how. But his own Arithmancy skills, he thought, were likely not up to that task.

 

“Wow, Adira. You're going to ace the O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s in Arithmancy for sure!”

 

He wrote out a quick note back to her, one which used her own backwards-ordered message trick from the initial letter to spell out “I HAVE QUESTIONS FOR YOU TOO.” It was short and to the point, indicating they needed to talk sometime, while also telling her he'd got the real message without giving away the secret.

 

It took Percy another hour to get to sleep that night, his mind was racing so much. Just... so many questions!

 

 

**Endnotes:** Just to clarify, it's my head-canon that in canon as well as this fic, that Umbridge put a compulsion charm on the blood quill. It was weird enough that it got used on Harry without Harry mentioning it to any adults, his friends only finding out by seeing the cuts on his hand. To think Dean Thomas (among possible others) also went through that as well without telling McGonagall or another trusted adult just beggars the imagination. So magic has to be the reason for it.

 

Despite Fay Dunbar having the same first name as me, I chose her for a reserve Chaser not because of that, but because there weren't many other canonical options, and she has the interest according to her wiki page.

 

The idea for where the teachers' quarters are (the portraits, not the exact location) I give full credit to The White Squirrel at FanFiction dot net for thinking of, in their fanfic story “The Arithmancer” and the sequel, “Lady Archimedes.” It's a great series, centers around Hermione in an AU where she's a maths prodigy, it's amazing!

 

It wasn't said before, but I've decided that the new history of magic textbook was written by a woman named Lyre Troozerfyr.

 

One last one: Updates might be fewer and farther between than usual. Summer means heat, and heat makes me useless, makes my brain go all slow and melty.


	7. Mahala Kalisha Kadu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The collective meets Mahala Kadu, and it goes a little sideways. Percy sends another letter to the Potters, warning about Umbridge's new position. There's another Umbridge detention, with a couple unexpected twists.

“ **The Many Faces Go To War: Chapter 7”**

By = Fayanora

 

**Chapter Seven: Mahala Kalisha Kadu**

 

Notes: Started putting dates on these chapters where possible, it helps me keep track of where I am in the story. (Something I figured out when writing my original fiction.) Dates are provided by HP Lexicon's Order of the Phoenix calendar.

 

FORMATTING FOR INTERNAL VOICES = Because the previous note about the styles was messing with the formatting, the following will be formatting for internal voices: 'Single quotes with no italics' will be Adira/Addy unless someone is quoting something, ~Text in tildes~ will be Chandra, (Parentheses for Al,) [Brackets will be Hypatia], % Percentage symbols for Iliana %, # Pound signs for Mother/Avani, # * Asterisks for Zoey, * and {curly brackets for Tier.} Apologies for any confusion this may cause.

 

Text in _'Italics and single quotes'_ is Parseltongue.

 

J. K. Rowling owns this sandbox, I'm only playing in it.

 

This chapter may contain some quotations from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and definitely has some quotes from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

 

This chapter ends on a bit of a down note, but the next chapter gets much better and funnier.

 

One last note: Don't skip the Prophet article in this chapter, it's not quite the same as canon. * Smirk *

 

***FAYANORA***

 

September 10th, 1995

 

The next day went much more smoothly with no Umbridge classes and no detentions this week, so far. Adira spent most of the day Out, though Iliana spent a few hours after curfew drawing up a Quidditch practice schedule. For the first hour, she went around the common room and even into the dorms to find all the players and reserve players to get as much information as she could about their weekly schedules. When she sat down to make the schedule, the bulk of their practice time would be on weekends, but there were a couple weekday practices as well.

 

She was still in the middle of this task when Dobby appeared with a CRACK, and she jumped enough that the quill went wildly over the parchment, ink making a mess of it. Several other people jumped and shouted in alarm as well.

 

“Dobby, don't DO that! If you're going to appear when I haven't called you, please pop quietly and several feet away so it doesn't startle me.”

 

“Sorry, Miss Iliana Potter, Miss. But Dobby is having a message and instructions from Dumbledore, Miss.”

 

“You're forgiven, as long as you're quiet in the future, okay Dobby?” He nodded, so she continued, “What does Dumbledore want, Dobby?”

 

Dobby handed her a note in Dumbledore's handwriting that said she was wanted in his office for an introduction to be made. And since it was after curfew, and he wanted to keep this meeting secret from Umbridge, Dobby was here to ferry her to his office.

 

She held up a finger to tell him to wait. He waited as she used her wand to fix the mistake his sudden appearance had caused, and finish drying it and putting it away. Then she grabbed her things and motioned him to follow her with a nod of her head. He followed her up into her room and watched her put her things away. Then she closed the door with her wand.

 

“Okay, Dobby, we can go now. But please try to do it quietly. Dumbledore wants this meeting to be a secret.”

 

There was a knock on the door.

 

“Who is it?”

 

“It's me,” Ron said. “Can I come in?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Ron came in, closing the door behind him. He stared a moment at Dobby, then looked at her questioningly. She handed him the note, which he read.

 

“Oh. Well that saves me asking what that was all about. I'll tell Hermione if I can do it quietly enough.”

 

“Thanks, Ron.”

 

Iliana took Dobby's hand and a couple seconds later felt like she was being squeezed through a very tight rubber tube, until she popped out with a relieved breath. She wobbled on her feet and pitched forward, looking like she was about to puke, but she managed to keep herself from doing so with concentration. She really hated puking; they all did.

 

“Ah, Miss Potter, glad to see you didn't have to make use of the bucket after all,” Dumbledore said. Only when he said this did she notice the bucket in front of her.

 

Standing up shakily, she nodded. “Thanks for thinking of it, though, headmaster.”

 

“You are quite welcome, my dear. Are you feeling better?”

 

Iliana sat down on a chair in front of his desk. “Yes, I'm doing okay.”

 

Dobby sighed and popped away quietly.

 

“Good,” Dumbledore said. “Because I wanted you to meet someone today. Please come in, Miss Kadu.”

 

The door opened. Iliana turned to look at the door, and saw a woman as black as a moonless night come into the room. She was instantly familiar to them.

 

“You! We saw you in a vision we had over the summer!”

 

The woman paused, regarding her with shrewd eyes. Then she closed the door behind her.

 

“How much did you see in this vision?”

 

“An entire conversation between you, the headmaster, and Professors McGonagall and Snape. Um... because of that vision, we made a contract-bound truce with Draco Malfoy.”

 

“Ah, good. So I won't have to repeat myself. You already know your sins.”

 

“Yes. It was... it made us feel sick, to realize you were right.”

 

The woman, Miss Kadu, sat down next to her on the other chair.

 

“Good. That means you are still decent people, despite your flaws.”

 

Iliana opened her mouth to speak, but froze in place, their form suddenly switching to Al's form. The instant he appeared, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he began speaking in the harsh tones of his Prophecy voice.

 

“ _In the dark midden, the halfling's horde, beats the hairy heart of the dark lord. Bound in an artifact made of gold, one of many hands to life he does hold. Ancient as the serpent king down in the deep, the promise the halfling could not keep. Keep the promise, kill the heart, and down the cross road you will start._ ”

 

When he snapped out of it, his eyes returning to normal, he blinked in surprise. The two adults blinked back at him, astonished.

 

“Did anyone catch that? I don't remember anything at all about it.”

 

Dumbledore got out a quill and wrote down the prophecy at once, handing it to Al to read.

 

“Not ringing any bells. I didn't get any images with that one.”

 

“Fear not, Alastair. It is not necessary. For a prophecy, that was remarkably straight-forward.”

 

“Really? Because it sounds like gibberish to me. The only 'halfling' I know of is hobbits, and I've not yet heard of those being real. And 'hairy heart'? What's that? Those are the key points, I think.”

 

“The 'hairy heart' is a reference to one of the tales of Beedle the Bard, old wizarding fables. The hairy heart story is thought by scholars in the know to be a reference to horcruxes. The mention of 'many hands to life he does hold' and 'down the cross road you will go' confirms this. As to 'halfling,' that is a house elf, I think. I suppose it could mean a goblin, but I don't see how that could be.”

 

“Really? What makes you think that?”

 

“Because Sirius told me that Kreacher the house elf is quite unwell in his mind, and is living in a nest like a midden heap, full of things he managed to rescue from the house before they could be thrown away.”

 

“And you think this horcrux is there, in Kreacher's nest?”

 

“It is worth a look. One moment, please.”

 

Dumbledore took a mirror out of his desk and called Sirius on it, telling him to come to the office and bring Kreacher. Sirius agreed, though in a confused way, and signed off. They waited.

 

“So uh, what's your full name? I can't recall.” Al asked the woman.

 

“Mahala Kalisha Kadu,” she said, holding out her hand.

 

“Alastair Potter,” he said, shaking her hand.

 

* Oh wow, she's gorgeous! * Zoey said.

 

“Zoey thinks you're gorgeous,” Al said. Then he cocked his head. “The rest of us agree.”

 

“Thank you, Alastair Potter,” she said.

 

A green fire appeared in the grate, and Sirius stepped through.

 

“Kreacher!” he called.

 

With a CRACK, Kreacher appeared.

 

“Master has brought Kreacher to the office of the Mudblood-loving old fool who runs the school. Kreacher is wondering why. And there is the freak that brought down the dark lord. Why is it here, Kreacher wonders?”

 

“Shut up, Kreacher,” Sirius commanded. Kreacher opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He glared at Sirius.

 

“Anyway, Dumbledore, why are we here? Why did you want both me and Kreacher?”

 

“Because as I was introducing Alastair to Miss Kadu here, Alastair had another prophecy.” Dumbledore handed Sirius the parchment for Sirius to read.

 

Sirius's eyes went wide. When he finished reading it, he looked at Mahala Kadu and then back at Dumbledore.

 

“He had this prophecy in front of the both of you?”

 

“Miss Kadu is in the know, about the horcruxes. When she was here over the summer, she figured it out on her own, so I had no choice but to confirm it. She is not helping directly with the horcrux hunt, but was interested in meeting the Potters and possibly training them.”

 

“Okay... so what does this have to do with me and Kreacher?”

 

“I believe the prophecy Alastair gave is saying that Kreacher has one of the horcruxes in his possession. Sirius, will you please order him to answer the questions that I ask him?”

 

“Yes, I can do that. Kreacher, you will answer any question Headmaster Dumbledore asks you, and you will answer it truthfully and fully, leaving nothing out. Do you understand? Answer my question.”

 

“Kreacher will do as Master wishes. Ungrateful Master that he is, breaking his mother's heart with his wicked ways.”

 

“Go ahead, Dumbledore.”

 

“Kreacher, do you have in your possession something that belonged to Lord Voldemort? Perhaps an object made of gold?”

 

Kreacher looked up at Dumbledore uncertainly. “Kreacher does not have anything from the dark lord. Not that Kreacher is aware of.”

 

“Kreacher, did you ever meet Lord Voldemort?”

 

This time, Kreacher looked scared. He twisted his hands like Dobby once did, and he was shaking.

 

“Answer him, Kreacher.”

 

“K-Kreacher... Kreacher is meeting the d-dark lord once. Years ago.”

 

“Did he want you to come with him for some reason, Kreacher? Did he ask Regulus Black for your services?” Sirius's head jerked up at these words.

 

Kreacher was shaking worse than ever, and there were tears in his eyes. “Th-the d-dark lord is... is asking M-Master R-Regulus... to be coming w-with him, for a task.”

 

“What was that task, Kreacher?”

 

“C-Can't... w-won't... M-Master Regulus trusted Kreacher... and Kreacher failed!”

 

“What was the task Regulus commanded of you for the dark lord, Kreacher?”

 

Kreacher was sitting on the floor now, crying into his hands. Sirius blinked at this in confusion, then sighed and squatted down next to him.

 

“Kreacher, what happened? Tell me what Voldemort wanted from Regulus that concerned you.”

 

The elf sat up, curled into a ball, placed his wet face between his knees, and began to rock backward and forward. When he spoke, his voice was mufﬂed but quite distinct in the silent room.

 

“Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress’s heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper order; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle–borns… and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve...

 

“And one day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said... he said...”

 

The old elf rocked faster than ever.

 

“… he said that the Dark Lord required an elf.”

 

“Voldemort needed an elf?” Dumbledore repeated, looking at the others. Everyone was puzzled why that would be.

 

“Oh yes,” moaned Kreacher. “And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do… and then to c–come home.”

 

Kreacher rocked still faster, his breath coming in sobs.

 

“So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake…”

 

The hairs on the back of Al's neck stood up. Kreacher’s croaking voice seemed to come to him from across the dark water. He saw what had happened as clearly as though he had been present.

 

“… There was a boat… There was a b–basin full of potion on the island. The D–Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it…”

 

The elf quaked from head to foot. Sirius's eyes were wider than Al had ever seen them.

 

“Kreacher drank, and as he drank he saw terrible thing… Kreacher’s insides burned… Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed… He made Kreacher drink all the potion… He dropped a locket into the empty basin… He ﬁlled it with more potion.”

 

“And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island…”

 

Al could see it happening. He watched Voldemort’s white, snakelike face vanishing into darkness, those red eyes ﬁxed pitilessly on the thrashing elf whose death would occur within minutes, whenever he succumbed to the desperate thirst that the burning poison caused its victim… But here, their imagination could go no further, for they could not see how Kreacher had escaped.

 

“Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island’s edge and he drank from the black lake… and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface…”

 

“How did you get away?” Al asked, and he was not surprised to hear himself whispering.

 

Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked Harry with his great, bloodshot eyes.

 

“Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back,” he said.

 

“I know—but how did you escape the dead bodies?”

 

Kreacher did not seem to understand. But Sirius and Dumbledore did, judging by their faces.

 

“Al,” Sirius said, “a house elf's prime directive is their master's orders. Regulus told him to come home, so he did. He Disapparated home.”

 

“But how? Surely Voldemort wouldn't be stupid enough to let people just Apparate in and out of there. It sounds like he expected Kreacher to die in there.”

 

“Alastair,” Dumbledore said, “Voldemort is very arrogant, and House Elf Apparition is not the same as that of wizards and witches. House Elves can Apparate in Hogwarts, where wizards and witches cannot. Voldemort, in his arrogance, did not bother to learn enough about House Elves to know that Kreacher would be able to escape if ordered to. If he had not been so arrogant, he would have blocked House Elf Apparition as well. Though, if he were not so arrogant, he would not be Voldemort.”

 

“Oh. Well it's good you came back, Kreacher, but what happened after that? What did Regulus say when you told him what happened?”

 

“Answer him, Kreacher,” Sirius said in a much kinder tone than usual.

 

“Master Regulus was very worried, very worried,” croaked Kreacher. “Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then… it was a little while later… Master Regulus came to ﬁnd Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell… and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord…”

 

And so they had set off. Al could visualize them quite clearly, the frightened old elf and the thin, dark Seeker who had so resembled Sirius… Kreacher knew how to open the concealed entrance to the underground cavern, knew how to raise the tiny boat: this time it was his beloved Regulus who sailed with him to the island with its basin of poison…

 

“And he made you drink the poison?” said Al, disgusted.

 

But Kreacher shook his head and wept. Sirius's hands leapt to his mouth: He seemed to have understood something.

 

“M–Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had,” said Kreacher, tears pouring down either side of his snoutlike nose. “And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets…”

 

Kreacher’s sobs came in great rasps now; Al had to concentrate hard to understand him.

 

“And he ordered—Kreacher to leave—without him. And he told Kreacher—to go home—and never to tell my Mistress—what he had done—but to destroy—the ﬁrst locket. And he drank—all the potion—and Kreacher swapped the lockets—and watched… as Master Regulus… was dragged beneath the water… and…”

 

“And he was killed by the Inferi,” Sirius said quietly.

 

The elf broke into fresh sobs, nodding in response to Sirius's words.

 

Sirius sat back and looked at Al. “I think I understand now why Hermione isn't fond of the fact House Elves have to obey everything. I suppose Regulus thought he was doing Kreacher a kindness by taking the potion himself, but if he could see Kreacher now...” Sirius sighed.

 

“Kreacher, I have more questions,” Dumbledore. “Please try to calm down so you can answer. You may weep more later. For now, we need to know how we can help you fulfill Regulus's orders.”

 

To Al's surprise, Kreacher obeyed, even though it hadn't been an order and Sirius hadn't been the one to say it. He wiped his eyes and waited quietly for the questions.

 

“Where is the locket now?”

 

“Kreacher has it in his room,” Kreacher said. “The Mudbloods and blood traitors was going to throw it away, as they was doing with all of the things from Masters' and Mistress's house. But Kreacher is saving many things from the rubbish bins, including Master Regulus's locket.”

 

“Kreacher, you did not fail your orders. Regulus clearly did not know this when he gave his orders, but you stood absolutely no chance of destroying that locket yourself. Few things could destroy something as evil as that, Kreacher. Fiendfyre and basilisk venom are the only two things I can think of that could do it. Fiendfyre is a wizard's spell, and basilisks are quite rare.

 

“So, Kreacher, if you will go retrieve the locket for us, I believe we have something in the castle which can destroy it. Isn't that correct, Alastair?”

 

The elf looked up in astonishment at Dumbledore, then at Sirius. Al, for his part, nodded.

 

“Kreacher,” Sirius said, “go get the locket and bring it here.”

 

Standing up and saluting Sirius, Kreacher popped away.

 

“Dobby?” Al said.

 

Dobby popped into view, looking around the room. “Yes, Alastair Potter Sir?”

 

“Do you know where Moaning Myrtle's bathroom is?”

 

“Yes, I is knowing it.”

 

“I need you to take me there. But first... Dumbledore? Is there anything that can contain basilisk venom?”

 

“I believe so. One moment.”

 

Dumbledore stood up and looked in one of his cabinets for a couple minutes. As he did, Kreacher reappeared, startling Dobby.

 

“Dobby, don't say anything,” Al said. “Kreacher is here with something important for us. Leave him be, please.”

 

“Of course, sir.” He confined himself to side-eyeing Kreacher warily.

 

“Aha! Here we are,” Dumbledore said.

 

He came back to the desk with a large pair of glass flasks that were glowing with hundreds of tiny runes. Al judged you could probably get half a gallon of liquid into all the pair of flasks combined.

 

“These flasks are enchanted to cause any liquid in them to float inside without touching the walls of the flasks. They should be more than sufficient to contain basilisk venom. Ah, Kreacher, let us see it, then.”

 

He looked to Sirius, who nodded. “Put it on the desk, Kreacher.” Kreacher nodded and set on the desk a heavy gold locket.

 

“Before you go, Alastair, Dobby, let me check to make sure this is what I think it is.”

 

For nearly ten whole minutes, Dumbledore ran various tests on the locket with his wand. But the dead giveaway was when it began to rattle like there was something alive inside of it.

 

“Yes, I fear this is exactly what I thought it was. Dobby, you may take Alastair to the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets, in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.”

 

Dobby was shaking. “Is... is Dobby going to be needing to... to go in the Chamber, sirs?”

 

“No,” Al said. “I'll go in myself. The basilisk knows me. Recently, too, thanks to Hypatia pretending to be me.”

 

Putting the flasks in his robes, Al took Dobby by the hand. With a CRACK of Apparition, they appeared in Myrtle's bathroom, and she screamed in surprise.

 

“Oh, it's you again,” she said when she saw him. “You scared me to-- well, you scared me a lot.”

 

“Sorry about that, Myrtle. But I had to get here fast, and in a way Umbridge wouldn't find out. I'm on a mission from Dumbledore.”

 

“Going down into the Chamber again?” she asked, shivering.

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

“Well good luck.”

 

Al went over to the sinks, found the right one, and hissed _'Open'_ in Parseltongue at the snake carved into the tap. Nothing happened, which confused him until he remembered Hypatia had changed the password. So he tried again, with her help: _'_ _And the Earth becomes my throne, I adapt to the unknown, under wandering stars I've grown, by myself but not alone.'_

 

It opened then, and as it did, he thought that the entrance had to have been remodeled by one of the Heirs at some point, because he was pretty sure when the castle was made, the height of toiletry was chamberpots, and people thought washing their hands would make them ill.

 

The sink sunk into the ground and slid aside, revealing the hole down to the Chamber.

 

[Ahem. Before you go down there, allow me to point something out I recently discovered.]

 

Taking control of his voice, Hypatia spoke more Parseltongue. _'Show the platform,'_ she said.

 

Part of the shaft opened up and slid aside, and out slid a stone platform with stone handrails. It slid up into place for a person to step inside it. Al walked into the platform and held onto the handrails. A moment later, the platform sank down the shaft. Very near the bottom, Al heard the sound of stone scraping against stone, and then the platform sank into an opening in the shaft that he could see because of faint light that glowed from the platform.

 

When the platform stopped moving, there was another door, human sized, with realistic looking snakes on its surface.

 

_'Open,'_ he hissed. When it didn't respond, he tried the earlier password, the lyrics of some song from his time living with Sirius, and that worked.

 

The door opened like an ordinary door, but of its own accord at the sound of the password. On the other side, torches lit the way ahead. Curious, Al followed it to another door.

 

With Hypatia's guidance, he said, _'I am the Heir of Slytherin, come to defend the school.'_ The door opened, and he went inside.

 

Inside was a room he'd never seen before. It was large, with scores of mirrors arranged like the monitors of security rooms in TV shows, above a large control panel with hundreds of buttons, knobs, and switches. There was space for three seats, but only one chair, which floated there in midair like it was sitting on something invisible. Al waved his hand under it, but contacted nothing. It was levitating.

 

“What IS this place?”

 

[The Chamber of Secrets was intended as a panic room in case the castle was attacked. In the case of an attack during the school year, students take the slide down into the Chamber, the Heir comes down here, and they can see all over the castle and grounds with the magic mirrors, directing the basilisk to destroy the invading armies with its deadly gaze and its venom.]

 

He sat in the chair, and all the mirrors instantly lit up with different views of the castle, mostly corridors but also the Great Hall, the kitchens, and different points on the grounds.

 

“Holy crap,” he said, looking all around. He could see teachers and prefects patrolling the halls, Hagrid's hut barely visible as it was still dark inside, the Forbidden Forest, and the Black Lake.

 

Curious, Al read the writing on the buttons, which were in English somehow.

 

[Translation runes,] Hypatia explained. [Automatically translates the labels into the Heir's language.]

 

“Cool,” he said.

 

One button said 'Griffindor Common Room.' He pressed that, and one row of the mirrors changed view to show different views of the Griffindor common room. He saw Fred and George selling their trick sweets, Hermione trying to concentrate on her homework but being distracted by the twins, and Neville next to her doing the same. There wasn't any sound, though.

 

Next he tried the Slytherin common room. Where the Griffindor common room had looked loud and boisterous, everyone in Slytherin was quietly working or discussing things with other people. He saw Javier off on his own in one corner, working on what he thought was Transfiguration homework.

 

He pressed a button saying 'Forbidden Forest,' and the mirrors showed him multiple views of the inside of the forest. In one, there were centaurs gazing up at the stars. In another, a unicorn ran by. But in the central pair of mirrors on the bottom row was an artificially brightened view of something he recognized as the acromantula colony. This mirror differed from the others currently in that it now had text written large and bold and blood red across the bottom, saying 'THREAT DETECTED: ACROMANTULA COLONY.'

 

[It's got a good point,] Hypatia thought at him. [That colony is a threat waiting for an excuse to break out. What happens if Aragog dies? The colony would no longer have a reason to obey Hagrid.]

 

“Yeah, we should do something about that.”

 

[It's on my list as of now.]

 

“Huh. Well, as fascinating as this is, I need to talk to the basilisk.”

 

Al stood up, but the mirrors kept showing different views. He shrugged, not really caring how to turn it off, and looked around the room a moment. He saw another door out of there, labeled 'Basilisk chamber: proceed with caution.'

 

Taking a moment first to check the mirror view of that chamber and seeing it empty, Al went through the door and into the basilisk chamber. Closing his eyes, Al said, _'Oh mighty basilisk, can I have a word with you?'_

 

The mouth of the statue of Salazar Slytherin opened up. Al closed his eyes just in case. He heard a bass THUMP as the basilisk hit the ground.

 

_'Yes, Heir? What is it you want? I was napping.'_

 

_'Sorry about that. But you remember that other Heir, the one who was mistreating you?'_

 

_'Yes. You destroyed him.'_

 

_'I destroyed a piece of him. The rest of him is still out there, and he's recently come back to full power.'_

 

_'I see. What do you need from me?'_

 

_'I was going to ask you nicely if you would please give me some of your venom, in these flasks, so I can use them to destroy most of the other pieces of him so I can some day finally kill the last bit of him that's in his new body now. What do you say?'_

 

_'Well, Heir, I say I would be most glad to help you work towards vanquishing our mutual foe. Approach, Heir. You may open your eyes, I have mine closed.'_

 

Al peeked through his eyes and saw the basilisk was telling the truth. It opened its mouth, exposing its fangs. Repressing a shudder, Al screwed up his Griffindor courage and walked up to the basilisk. He and Chandra used their wands to put the flasks in place, not risking their hands or lives to the chance of spilled venom.

 

_'Go ahead,'_ he said.

 

~

 

Sirius was pacing across Dumbledore's office floor, growing more and more impatient the longer it took. Kreacher was staring at the locket with anticipation, flinching every now and then as it rattled like it was alive. Dumbledore was carving runes into a piece of wood on the desk.

 

“What's taking him so long? He should be back by now. What if he got bitten by that accursed snake? Or eaten. Or petrified! He could get stuck down there, and we'd never be able to help him!”

 

“Sirius, do calm down. Fawkes knows how to get down there, now that he knows where it is. He could rescue them if need be.”

 

“What if it's already too late? That venom works pretty fast.”

 

Dumbledore sighed. “Fine, if it will ease your---”

 

CRACK! Everyone jumped. Even Dumbledore flinched a little at the unexpected noise.

 

“Ta da!” Al said, holding up one of the flasks of basilisk venom in the hand that wasn't holding Dobby's hand.

 

Woozily, Al walked over to the desk and set down the flask, and pulled the other one out and set it down next to the other one. Then he flopped onto the seat.

 

“What took you so long? I was worried sick!”

 

“Got distracted by this really cool new room Hypatia showed me. It's a command center for a siege situation, it's awesome.”

 

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said, referring to the flasks. He tapped the wooden board he'd been carving runes into, and the runes lit up. He set one of the flasks upon it and pulled the glass stopper out of the top.

 

“It will be best, I think, if we don't risk touching it.”

 

Dumbledore approached the locket with a metal hook, but the locket started to jump away in little hops. It was no good, though; Dumbledore grabbed the thing by the chain with the hook. It jumped around in a panic as it hung from its chain. Dumbledore held it over the flask and dipped it toward the black venom. Its jumping around in a panic reminded Al faintly of the Dip scene in Who Framed Roger Rabbit, but considering it was a piece of Voldemort's soul, he felt no pity for it.

 

The chain wrapped itself around the top of the flask, preventing the horcrux from getting any closer to the basilisk venom. With a second metal hook, Dumbledore poked the horcrux down into the venom, where it screamed loud enough the others all covered their ears, thick black smoke billowing from the flask. But some ward in the board the flask sat on contained the smoke until it dissipated.

 

Dumbledore lifted the limp chain out of the venom and showed them where the locket itself had melted in half. As they watched, the other half fell off the chain and into the venom, which bubbled briefly before returning to normal.

 

“That makes two down,” he said. “I wish I knew for sure how many were left.”

 

“Damn him,” Al said. “Priceless historical artifact, and he went and shoved his filthy soul into it. Now it's gone forever.”

 

“Yes. I believe part of the reason why he chose such an artifact was to make people less likely to want to destroy the horcrux. But the locket was dead the moment he defiled it.”

 

“What an idiot he is,” Al said. “Why not just put your soul in an ordinary pebble and toss it into the Marianas trench? Then nobody could ever destroy it. You'd only need _one_ of the damned things then.”

 

“I believe a part of Voldemort must have known that he might change his mind, even if it took a few centuries before he grew tired of life. He wanted a way to back out if he needed to. At least, I hope he did not do as you suggested. I do not think he did, as he is very arrogant.”

 

“Kreacher, you may return home now if you'd like,” Sirius said.

 

Kreacher nodded, bowed to Dumbledore, inclined his head at Sirius, and then Disapparated.

 

Mahala Kadu stared at the flask as Dumbledore put the stopped back in and returned both flasks to a secure cupboard, the same cupboard he'd gotten the flasks from in the first place. When he sat back down, she spoke, gravely.

 

“I will help you with your Voldemort problem. Directly.”

 

“You will?” Dumbledore asked, taken by surprise.

 

“Yes. I did not really believe he made even one horcrux, even though I knew he must have. Today, I saw proof. To think he's made multiple horcruxes... I shudder to think of it. An evil of that magnitude needs to be stopped.”

 

“Will you now join the Order of the Phoenix, Mahala?”

 

“Yes, I will.”

 

“Excellent. We can do that officially in the morning. We shall have to reschedule this meeting, too, so you can get to know the Potters better. Alastair, you may go back to Griffindor now.”

 

She nodded.

 

“Well, it's been nice meeting you,” Al said, shaking her hand.

 

“Likewise, Mr. Potter.”

 

“Dobby!” Al called.

 

“I is right here, sir. Dobby is not gone nowhere yet.”

 

“Oh. Sorry, I forgot.”

 

He took Dobby's hand, and once more was squeezed through a tube, landing in their bedroom.

 

“Well, I'm pooped,” Al said, and returned control to Iliana.

 

Iliana went back to scheduling Quidditch practices, at her desk in their room. She was just finishing up half an hour later when an unfamiliar owl tapped on her window. She got up and let it inside. It sat on the edge of her desk, and she untied the letter from its leg.

 

The envelope was blank. She warily checked the letter with several spells before opening it and seeing who it was from. It looked like arithmancy notes, with a short line in unfamiliar handwriting at the top saying “Here's the new equation, what do you think?” She couldn't make heads or tails of the maths on it. Hypatia, however, solved it pretty quickly in her head. It was a code for a password. She held her wand to the page and spoke the password, revealing a different letter.

 

_Iliana or Adira or whoever,_

 

_Percy here. I'm writing to let you know that Umbridge and Fudge have pushed through a new educational decree, it finally passed today. Umbridge has been given the position of 'High Inquisitor of Hogwarts,' with the power to inspect other teachers and give them the sack if they're found wanting. That debacle with Cedric and the patronus seems to have worked better than we thought at discrediting Cedric, since the paper reported he was charged with using magic in front of Muggles and got off on a technicality. They've also been putting pressure on the Quidditch teams, blocking him from getting on any of the teams, which is what he wanted to be doing with himself for a few years at least. You should write him, convince him to join the Order instead. I know a lot of the Order were recruited right out of school, and he drew with you for the Tournament. I wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore already approached him and didn't tell me._

 

_Keep your head down while she has power. We'll get through this. You-Know-Who will come out of hiding eventually, and when he does, the Ministry will wise up. Until then, she is a nasty piece of work and no matter how bad you think she can be, you're not even close. For your safety, and the safety of the people you love, keep your head down and your mouth shut in her class. I don't know how far she'll go, but I fear it's worse than you can imagine._

 

_Also, don't trust owls from here on out. Once she's High Inquisitor, she'll be able to tamper with the mail. She can be very subtle when she wants to be, so don't trust anything said in owl letters after tonight._

 

_Sorry that I don't know how you'll be able to warn the others without telling my family, but you'll think of something, you're ridiculously smart, if that spell you sent last time is anything to go by. You'll have to tell me how you did that. Just, not in the mail. For now, I think we should do as the Muggles call 'maintaining radio silence.' So do not respond to this letter. Not by owl, anyway. Nor the Muggle post, either._

 

_Remain wary. Don't trust Umbridge. Don't trust the school elves, either; they'll have to obey her. And a reminder: don't tell my family I'm working with Dumbledore. Not yet._

 

_Sincerely,_

_-Percy_

 

_PS = Burn this letter when you're done reading it._

 

Iliana read it a couple more times to be sure she remembered everything in it, then she Vanished it with her wand, as it was neater than burning it.

 

She went to bed that night worried about the days ahead.

 

~

September 11th, 1995

 

Adira had expected to have to comb Hermione's Daily Prophet carefully next morning to find the article Percy had mentioned in his letter. However, the departing delivery owl had barely cleared the top of the milk jug when Hermione let out a huge gasp and flattened the newspaper to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline.

 

_MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM_

_DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED_

_FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR_

 

"Umbridge — 'High Inquisitor'?" said Adira darkly, her half-eaten piece of toast slipping from her fingers. "What does that mean?"

 

Hermione read aloud:

 

" 'In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

 

" 'The Minister has been growing unsettled about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,' said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. 'He tells me he is now responding to concerns from anxious parents who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve of.' "

 

"This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as 30th August, Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person.

 

" 'That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts,' said Weasley last night. 'After Professor Remus Lupin was forced to resign due to recent changes in the laws, and Professor Binns said he was too happy with his retirement to return, Dumbledore couldn't find anyone to replace him, so the Minister put in Umbridge to properly re-educate students on a Ministry-approved version of History of Magic, and providing the Minister with on-the-ground intelligence about what's happening at Hogwarts.'

 

"It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalised with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, which creates the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.

 

" 'This is a new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts,' said Weasley. 'The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are meeting the Ministry's new standards. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post and we are happy to say that she has accepted.'

 

"The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts.

 

" "I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation,' said Mr Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. 'Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.'

 

"Among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and delusional ex-Auror, "Mad-Eye" Moody.

 

"Rumours abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts.

 

" 'I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence,' said a Ministry insider last night.

 

"Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.

 

" 'Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office,' said Madam Marchbanks. 'This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore.'

 

"(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)"

 

Hermione finished reading and looked across the table at the other two.

 

"So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this "Educational Decree" and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers!" Hermione was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. "I can't believe this. It's outrageous!"

 

“Yeah it is,” said Ron angrily.

 

Adira said nothing. She had not even mentioned Percy's secret messages to Hermione, for fear she would tell Ron. But Adira knew, and she had noticed some interesting wording in Percy's quotes. ' **He tells me** he is now responding to concerns from anxious parents,' 'the minister has been growing **unsettled** ,' ' **re-educate** students on a **Ministry-approved version of History** of Magic,' and even 'inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are **meeting the Ministry's new standards** ,' were all subtle ways of sounding like he was still on the Minster's side, while sowing a seed of doubt in people's minds with his choice of words. If he'd really been on their side, she figured he'd say the Minister was 'uneasy' or 'concerned' rather than 'unsettled,' and she was surprised the Ministry let 're-educated' slip through the editing process, not to mention the part where it sounded almost like Percy was saying 'Ministry-approved version of history.' It was very clever, and very subtle. Muggle-borns might catch on, if they'd at least heard about George Orwell, but she doubted the wizarding-born people would notice, if it got into the papers that way.

 

(Good gods, why wasn't Percy a Slytherin?) Al thought.

 

She gave a barely perceptible nod in response. Percy was definitely someone who would have done well in Slytherin.

 

Adira glanced at Hermione, and noticed she was looking at the article with that look on her face that said something wasn't adding up for her. She mouthed the words 're-educate' and 'Ministry-approved version of History of Magic.' Adira repressed a smile; Hermione was clever, too.

 

Hermione turned to her. “What's the matter, Adira? You didn't respond. I'd have thought you would, if anybody would.” Her eyes darted to Adira's left hand with its scar from their detentions.

 

She shook her head slightly as if coming out of a daze and said, “Sorry, lost in thought. But yeah, as if the old toad needs any more power.”

 

It was a poor performance. Ron bought it, but Hermione was narrowing her eyes at Addy, who went back to her breakfast, trying to ignore her friend.

 

A grin was unfurling on Ron's face.

 

“What?” said Addy and Hermione together, staring at him.

 

“Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected,” said Ron happily. “Umbridge won't know what's hit her.”

 

The two girls laughed at this. Then the three of them got up and went to class.

 

On their way to their first class, Charms, Hermione said, “So you didn't tell me yesterday what you got on your moonstone essay for Professor Snape.”

 

“I didn't? Wow, I must have been preoccupied. He gave me an A. Not as good as I'd hoped for, but uh,” she checked to make sure nobody else was listening, “Hypatia isn't as good at Potions as Iliana is. If Iliana had done it, I bet we'd have gotten an O.”

 

“She did your homework for you?”

 

“Yeah, because of the detentions. It gave me Saturday morning free to spend with Luna.”

 

“Well, I guess that's okay. But you shouldn't make a habit of letting her do your--”

 

“What does it matter, Hermione? She's better at maths than the rest of us, and rituals, but she's the same or worse at other subjects. And anyway, she only did it this once, as much for herself as for us.”

 

Hermione seemed to accept this. Adira repressed a sigh. Really, what did it matter? They had a collective memory, so it wasn't exactly cheating.

 

Umbridge wasn't inspecting Charms yet, which they were relieved about. But she was there in Transfiguration with a little clipboard in her hand.

 

"Excellent," whispered Ron, as they sat down in their usual seats. "Let's see Umbridge get what she deserves."

 

Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umbridge was there.

 

That will do," she said and silence fell immediately. "Mr Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework — Miss Brown, please take this box of mice — don't be silly, girl, they won't hurt you — and hand one to each student — "

 

"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her. Seamus handed back Adira's essay; Adira took it without looking at him and saw, to her relief, that she had managed an 'E'.

 

"Right then, everyone, listen closely — Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention — most of you have now successfully Vanished your conjured snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have got the gist of the spell. Today, we shall be — "

 

"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge.

 

"Yes?" said Professor McGonagall, turning round, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line.

 

"I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec — "

 

"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom," said Professor McGonagall, turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge. Many of the students exchanged looks of glee. "As I was saying: today, we shall be practising the altogether more difficult Vanishment of conjured mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell — "

 

"Hem, hem."

 

"I wonder," said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, "how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking."

 

Professor Umbridge looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She did not speak, but straightened the parchment on her clipboard and began scribbling furiously.

 

Looking supremely unconcerned, Professor McGonagall addressed the class once more.

 

"As I was saying: the Vanishing Spell becomes more difficult with the complexity of the animal to be Vanished, which is true whether the animal is real or, as in this instance, conjured. Conjured animals are generally easier to Vanish than real animals though, which is why we've been using conjured animals.

 

“Now the snail, as an invertebrate, does not present much of a challenge; the mouse, as a mammal, offers a much greater one. This is not, therefore, magic you can accomplish with your mind on your dinner. So — you know the incantation, let me see what you can do . . ."

 

"How she can lecture me about not losing my temper with Umbridge!" Adira muttered to Ron under her breath, but she was grinning.

 

Umbridge stayed seated in her little corner the whole time, taking notes. Everyone largely ignored her. When Professor McGonagall finally told them all to pack away, she rose with a grim expression on her face.

 

“Well, it's a start,” said Ron, holding up a long wriggling mouse-tail and dropping it back into the box Lavender was passing around.

 

Adira, for her part, had managed to Vanish the entire mouse, and had nothing to turn in. Losing their magic for months and getting it back seemed to have reset their Transfiguration abilities somewhat; it used to be that Zoey was great at wandless Transfiguration but none of them were much good at the wanded variety. But since the reset, they were now equally good at both, for some reason.

 

As they filed out of the classroom, Adira saw Professor Umbridge approach the teachers desk; she nudged Ron, who nudged Hermione in turn, and the three of them deliberately fell back to eavesdrop.

 

"How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Professor Umbridge asked.

 

"Thirty-nine years this December," said Professor McGonagall brusquely, snapping her bag shut.

 

Professor Umbridge made a note.

 

"Very well," she said, "you will receive the results of your inspection in ten days' time."

 

"I can hardly wait," said Professor McGonagall, in a coldly indifferent voice, and she strode off towards the door. "Hurry up, you three," she added, sweeping Adira, Ron and Hermione before her.

 

Adira could not help giving her a faint smile and could have sworn he received one in return.

 

She had thought - hoped, really - that the next time she would see Umbridge would be in her next History of Magic class, but she was wrong. When they walked down the lawns towards the Forest for Care of Magical Creatures, they found her and her clipboard waiting for them beside Professor Grubbly-Plank.

 

This inspection went mostly well. Umbridge asked Grubbly-Plank about where Hagrid was, but the woman said she had no idea, she'd just been asked to sub for him, and accepted. Adira was glad when Grubbly-Plank said Dumbledore was very good, and she was quite happy with how Hogwarts was run.

 

After questioning Grubbly-Plank about the creatures they'd be covering if Hagrid failed to show up, she nodded.

 

"Well, *you* seem to know what you're doing, at any rate," said Professor Umbridge, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. Addy did not like the emphasis she put on 'you' and liked it even less when she put her next question to Goyle. "Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?"

 

Malfoy looked over at Adira, then whispered something into Theo Knott's ear. Theo Knott snickered, then said, "Yes, Hagrid brought some strange creature called a bang-ended scoot to class, and there were lots of burns and a few stings from the foul creatures."

 

"True, but Chandra killed the lot of them in revulsion before any of the injuries got serious," Adira said.

 

Umbridge glared at her, clearly trying to work out a way to twist that into a detention-worthy offense, but failed, since Adira had kept her tone calm and polite. "Five points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn, Mr. Potter," she said.

 

For a moment, it looked like Grubbly-Plank was going to say something against this, but she seemed to decide not to.

 

Umbridge turned back to Grubbly-Plank. "Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank, I think that's all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days."

 

"Jolly good," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and Professor Umbridge set off back across the lawn to the castle.

 

"Sorry about not correcting her, Ms. Potter," Grubbly-Plank said when Umbridge was out of range, "but she could take away my substitute teacher's license if she wanted to."

 

“It's okay, Professor, I understand.”

 

~

 

The next day they had Divination. Al loved messing with Trelawney, so he came Out for this class, but he soon found this was a mistake. He was pulling out his dream diary in a seat at the very back of the shadowy Divination room when Ron elbowed him in the ribs and, looking round, he saw Professor Umbridge emerging through the trapdoor in the floor. The class, which had been talking cheerily, fell silent at once. The abrupt fall in the noise level made Professor Trelawney, who had been wafting about handing out copies of The Dream Oracle, look round.

 

“Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney,” said Professor Umbridge with her wide smile. “You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?”

 

Professor Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Professor Umbridge and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Professor Umbridge grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Professor Trelawney's seat. She then sat down, took her clipboard from her flowery bag and looked up expectantly, waiting for the class to begin.

 

Professor Trelawney pulled her shawls tight about her with slightly trembling hands and surveyed the class through her hugely magnifying lenses. She passed by Al, who gave her a thumbs-up and a bracing smile that Umbridge couldn't see. Trelawney looked confused a moment, then smiled briefly at Al.

 

“We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today,” she said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. “Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each others latest night-time visions with the aid of the Oracle.”

 

She made as though to sweep back to her seat, saw Professor Umbridge sitting right beside it, and immediately veered left towards Parvati and Lavender, who were already deep in discussion about Parvati's most recent dream.

 

Al opened his copy of 'The Dream Oracle,' watching Umbridge covertly. She was already making notes on her clipboard. After a few minutes she got to her feet and began to pace the room in Trelawney's wake, listening to her conversations with students and posing questions here and there. Al bent his head hurriedly over his book.

 

“Think of a dream, quick,” he told Ron, “in case the old toad comes our way.”

 

“I did it last time,” Ron protested, “it's your turn, you tell me one.”

 

“Fine, fine. Let's see... okay, so let's say I dreamed Umbridge was being carried off into the Forbidden Forest by a herd of centaurs.”

 

“That'll get you in detention for sure,” Ron said.

 

“Alright, then I dreamed that Peeves just stopped restraining himself one day and went on a rampage through the school.”

 

Ron chortled as he opened his 'Dream Oracle.'

 

“OK, we've got to add your age to the date you had the dream, the number of letters in the subject . . . would that be 'poltergeist,' 'destruction,' or 'chaos'?”

 

“Doesn't matter, just pick one.”

 

Al said, chancing a glance behind him. Professor Umbridge was now standing at Professor Trelawney's shoulder making notes while the Divination teacher questioned Neville about his dream diary.

 

“What night did you dream this again?” Ron said, immersed in calculations.

 

“I dunno, last night, whenever you like,” Al told him, trying to listen to what Umbridge was saying to Professor Trelawney. They were only a table away from him and Ron now. Professor Umbridge was making another note on her clipboard and Professor Trelawney was looking extremely put out.

 

“Now,” said Umbridge, looking up at Trelawney, “you've been in this post how long, exactly?”

 

Professor Trelawney scowled at her, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as though wishing to protect herself as much as possible from the indignity of the inspection. After a slight pause in which she seemed to decide that the question was not so offensive that she could reasonably ignore it, she said in a deeply resentful tone, “Nearly sixteen years.”

 

“Quite a period,” said Professor Umbridge, making a note on her clipboard. “So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?”

 

“That's right,” said Professor Trelawney shortly.

 

Professor Umbridge made another note.

 

“And you are a great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?”

 

“Yes,” said Professor Trelawney, holding her head a little higher.

 

Another note on the clipboard. Al raised his eyebrows.

 

(Cassandra? Could it be...? But no, it couldn't be. Unless Trelawney had ancient Greek in her lineage. Which, given her appearance, isn't entirely out of the question. Diluted over time, for sure, since she's white, but...)

 

'What are you on about?' Adira asked Al.

 

(She could be related to the Cassandra from ancient Greek myths, the one that nobody ever believed.)

 

Adira didn't know what to say to this, but didn't have a chance to say anything anyway. The toad was croaking again.

 

"But I think — correct me if I am mistaken — that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of Second Sight?"

 

"These things often skip — er — three generations," said Professor Trelawney.

Professor Umbridge's toadlike smile widened.

 

"Of course," she said sweetly, making yet another note. “Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?” And she looked up enquiringly, still smiling.

 

Professor Trelawney stiffened as though unable to believe her ears. "I don't understand you," she said, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck.

 

"I'd like you to make a prediction for me," said Professor Umbridge very clearly.

 

Al and Ron were not the only people now watching and listening sneakily from behind their books. Most of the class were staring transfixed at Professor Trelawney as she drew herself up to her lull height, her beads and bangles clinking.

 

Thinking quickly, Al raised his hand. Obviously relieved by the distraction, Trelawney called on him, bustling over to stand next to him, Umbridge following her. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

 

“I was just curious about something you said in a previous class, about my wishing to learn how to read the bones. I was wondering if you could give me a demonstration of the technique so I can see it in action?”

 

“Oh yes, of course my dear boy,” Trelawney said, smiling. Umbridge behind her was frowning as Trelawney went over to a cupboard and pulled out a pouch and leather cloth and brought them over to Al.

 

Trelawney pulled up a chair next to Al and unrolled the leather cloth before her. She took a bunch of bits and bobs, buttons and bones and even a raven claw out of the pouch and set them on the cloth.

 

“Please pick an object you feel represents you, Mr. Potter, and set it aside.”

 

Al looked over the objects carefully, his hand hovering over what he thought was a mouse skull, then over a silver button, but finally he chose the raven talon, setting it to the side. Trelawney nodded, gathered up the other pieces, and shook them in her hand for ten seconds before tossing them back on the leather cloth. She examined the pieces and the pattern they'd made carefully.

 

“Hem hem,” Umbridge said.

 

“Please, Professor, she's concentrating. Reading the bones is a difficult branch of Divination, and requires concentration.”

 

Umbridge glared at him again, but said nothing.

 

A full minute later, Trelawney sat up and looked at Al.

 

“These patterns are very fascinating. There was some confusion at first if they applied to all of you, or just to yourself, Alastair, but I have decided on the latter, for you are indeed clever, intelligent like the raven, but also a trickster, also fitting to the raven. Anyway, as you can see by the way this piece here is aligned compared to this one over here...”

 

Al repressed a grin. He'd taken some of Umbridge's power away by making Trelawney forget about the old toad for a few minutes.

 

“So in conclusion, Mr. Potter, I believe it is safe to say that you have hard times ahead. But the difficulties shall be rewarding in the end. Specifically, you shall risk your life many times, to save the lives of others. I believe the bones also indicate you will invent new spells that will save lives, and new potions of great power. Perhaps you will become a Healer?”

 

“I disagree, Professor Trelawney,” Umbrdige said sweetly. “He is a deranged trouble-maker and will likely end up in Azkaban long before he could qualify as a Healer.”

 

Ignoring Umbridge, Al said, “I think you're picking up on the whole collective, Professor Trelawney. I'm no good at the maths necessary for spell-crafting, and Iliana is the one who's good with Potions. But risking my life to save others, I can see myself doing that.”

 

“Well of course you can, Mr. Potter!” Umbridge snapped. “You are in Gryffindor! House of the Brave, but also House of the sanctimonious and delusional, given you ended up there.”

 

He looked up at her with a false smile. “Oh wow Professor Umbridge, I had no idea _you_ were a Gryffindor too! Tell me, was Minister Fudge also a Gryffindor?”

 

She ground her teeth at him, her eyes bulging and her face going red. The few chuckles people had dared emit stopped abruptly at the sight. Trelawney was shaking and hugging herself again.

 

Umbridge bent down to face him, which wasn't far given her stature. “I will have you know I was a Hufflepuff, Mr. Potter! And a detention tonight for your cheek! Be in my office before dinner begins!”

 

Al put on a false appearance of hurt shock. “Professor! I'm terribly sorry if you thought that was cheek, I meant no offense.”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “I know cheek when I see it, Mr. Potter,” she said sweetly. “I guess I shall have to try extra hard to teach you manners.”

 

With that ominous statement, she stood up straight. The one good thing to come of the whole encounter, though, was she seemed to have forgotten all about the inspection she was doing, and walked out of the classroom early in a huff.

 

~

 

“Relax, guys; how much worse could it be for just one night?” Al asked after class.

 

“That's just it, I don't know. But I'm scared. She's already torturing you,” Hermione said.

 

“Oh. Yeah,” Al said, looking worried.

 

He sent his book-bag back to his room that night with Dobby. The elf looked worried and scared for him, but did as he asked without comment. He asked Dobby to leave him some sandwiches for after his detention, and Dobby nodded, popping away.

 

Al switched places with Chandra before going into Umbridge's office. He knocked on the door. “Come in,” she said sweetly.

 

He went inside, closing the door, but what he saw as he looked up made him freeze in his tracks with horror.

 

“NO!” he said, switching to Adira, then Al, then Iliana. “What is _she_ doing here? What did she do to deserve this?”

 

Umbridge grinned. Luna looked at Iliana with confused concern. “Hello, Iliana,” Luna said. “You got a detention, too?”

 

Iliana had her wand out. She hadn't realized she'd done it, but there it was. Umbridge's grin just got wider.

 

“Oh dear, are you going to attack me, Mr. Potter?”

 

Luna turned to Umbridge. “Your eyesight must be clouded by shargalumfs, Professor Umbridge. Iliana is clearly a girl. But don't worry, spreading avocado butter on your face will scare away shargalumfs, and clear up your sight.”

 

“And that, right there, is your answer, Mr. Potter. I suppose it's fitting, two nutters dating one another. Bird of a feather flock together.”

 

“So she says somewhat mad-sounding things sometimes, so what? Until I was eleven, I thought unicorns and giant three-headed dogs were imaginary creatures. Who's to say Luna isn't just more perceptive than us? Anyway, even if it's imaginary, that's no reason to do... this.”

 

“Well I daresay you have a point, Mr. Potter. Her imaginary creatures weren't what got her in detention. And before you ask, she's not here just because of you. She's been making a nuisance of herself in class as well, questioning facts and spreading the same lies as you and Dumbledore.”

 

“So Cedric Diggory is a liar, too?”

 

“Oh yes, thank you for reminding me of that.” She sent a cat Patronus flying past Iliana and out the door. Iliana stared at the door, amazed such an evil woman was capable of casting such a Light spell as a Patronus.

 

A few moments later, Filch came in, with Cedric Diggory in tow. Iliana's eyes went wide.

 

“Cedric? What are you doing here? I thought you graduated!”

 

“What? No, I was in sixth year last year. This is my final year.” He looked at Umbridge. “Though I'm starting to think I might've been better off dropping out early.”

 

Iliana turned to Umbridge with angry tears rolling down her face. “You can't do it to all of us, there isn't enough room in here!”

 

“Oh, don't worry about that, Mr. Potter. Mr. Diggory has been having detentions with me every night since we began school. He's even worse about keeping his temper and his tongue than you are. And like you, the usual punishment has not been working quite as effectively as it could. _Expelliarmus_! _Incarcerous_!”

 

Taken by surprise, both Cedric and Iliana were disamed and tied up.

 

“You two are going to watch as Miss Lovegood here takes her punishment, since punishing you directly does not seem to be working.”

 

“NO!”

 

“What's wrong, Iliana? You sound much too upset for a simple detention,” Luna said.

 

Iliana shifted to Zoey's form, wriggling out of the ropes and reaching for Chandra's wand. But Umbridge beat them to it. “ _Incarcerous_! _Funem_ _stricta_!”

 

Zoey was tied up with more ropes, and the second spell tightened them. She tried shifting even smaller, but the ropes tightened to match, so she couldn't escape. She also didn't want to reveal her Animagus ability to this woman, and doubted it would work anyway. As much as they hated this woman, they made a note to remember that rope-tightening spell.

 

Umbridge cast the rope-tightening spell on Cedric's ropes as well, then used Sticking Charms to keep them from falling over and missing any of the punishment.

 

Iliana cried and Cedric shouted imprecations at Umbridge as the old toad handed the black quill to Luna, who hesitated, looking between it and Iliana's crying face. Umbridge silenced the both of them with her wand.

 

“Miss Lovegood, it is just lines. Your red-headed slattern is just being her usual over-dramatic self. You may ignore her.”

 

Luna was still hesitating. “Professor, I have never known Iliana to lie to me, and she always gives me the benefit of the doubt. I don't think I should touch that quill.”

 

“You will use the quill, Miss Lovegood, because I have the Minister's ear, and I can have him send Aurors into your house in search of illegal goods. Given your father's interest in imaginary animals and his gullibility, it should not be difficult to find something to arrest him for.”

 

This got Luna's attention, and made her eyes wide with fear. “Don't hurt my Daddy!” she said.

 

“Your father will be left alone for now, if you pick up the quill and write 'I will not tell lies' until I tell you to stop.”

 

Luna nodded, and picked up the quill. She began writing, and yelped with pain and surprise.

 

“It cut me! Professor, I need to--- wait, never mind. It's healing.”

 

“Yes, Miss Lovegood. It is a blood quill. It writes things in your own blood.”

 

“I'm fairly certain this is an illegal use of this object, Professor,” Luna said.

 

“Oh, I assure you it's fully legal. I picked up a fun little concept from Muggle law makers, called a 'rider.' Wording my anti-werewolf legislation just right, and I snuck through a law to make this use of the blood quill legal on minors. And you'll find, if you read the school charter, that there is no rule against corporal punishment. Dumbledore never changed the rules, he simply changed their enforcement. Now write, Miss Lovegood.”

 

It was much more difficult for Luna to write with the blood quill. She kept stopping each time for several minutes before realizing that it would hurt less to just write with the thrice-damned thing. So she did, with a look of defiant determination on her face that made Iliana proud, even if the effect was ruined by the tears running down Luna's cheeks.

 

As time dragged on, Iliana felt her fear and sorrow about this turn to anger. Al was angry too, but Iliana's own anger felt different. She also felt Adira's anger. Zoey – for all they were stuck in her form at the moment – had vanished, unable to stomach the situation. Chandra, too, was missing. They'd be back.

 

At some point in the night, Iliana noticed that their hair had turned red. When the old bitch finally let the three of them go at 1 in the morning, Luna looking even spacier than usual but in a worn-down, defeated sort of way, they found out from Cedric that they'd spent the last six hours as a six-year-old version of Iliana's form. She shifted to her regular size when they left Umbridge's office, hugging Luna protectively and crying again.

 

“We should move along,” Cedric said. “Thanks to Umbridge, I'm no longer a Prefect. It was the first thing she did as High Inquisitor, I think.”

 

“Yeah,” Iliana said, “Bye, Cedric.”

 

“Later, Iliana,” he said, leaving for the Hufflepuff dorms.

 

Iliana began walking along with Luna, holding her girlfriend's writing hand carefully in hers. She wanted to kiss it to try to make it better, but didn't want to risk it hurting more. It had healed anyway, though it was red and inflamed.

 

“We need to tell Flitwick about this,” Luna said. “Bullying is one thing, but this...”

 

“I would've done so already if I could,” Iliana said. “But there's a compulsion charm on it. It may be technically legal, but it would look bad for the Ministry if it got out. I'm researching how to lift compulsion charms. She didn't think to add a compulsion against that. I just can't ask for any help from someone who isn't already aware of the issue.”

 

“Well I'll help with the research, Iliana. And maybe Cedric can help, too. You should ask him about it later.”

 

“I will. But... I sensed something from you a moment ago. Are... is the bullying happening again?”

 

Luna nodded. “If I put stuff in my trunk, they can't steal it, the wards on it still work. But they've started putting disgusting things in my bed. Frog spawn, pig bladders... and worse.”

 

“Worse? Worse how?”

 

Luna just shuddered. “They also cast a spell on my shampoo the other day in the shower when my back was turned. It made my hair fall out. I had to have Madam Pomfrey help me regrow it.”

 

“I wish I could bring you to my dorm and keep you safe in there. But I'll have to settle for siccing Fred and George on them. Do you know who's doing it?”

 

“I can't be sure of all of them. My dorm-mates for sure; Maria Markov, Sally Jacobson, and Cerridwen Cartwright. Maria also has her friend Circe Lancaster bullying me, too.”

 

“You need to tell the Prefects.”

 

Luna shook her head. “I have. Only one of them did anything about it, and that just made the problem worse.”

 

“Then you need to tell Flitwick. If the Prefects aren't doing their job, he needs to know.”

 

“No. It'll just make things worse.”

 

“It might get the Prefects fired and replaced.”

 

“I'm sorry, Iliana, but that wouldn't help either. Everyone in Ravenclaw either bullies me or looks the other way. I'm the House outcast, too weird for any of them. I don't think the Prefects that did nothing were even being mean, I think they just didn't believe me. They think the creatures I talk about are imaginary, and so they think I'm a liar. It doesn't help that I can never look anyone in the eyes, it's too intense for me. In most people, failure to make eye contact is a sign of dishonesty. But I'm not like most people. And I don't lie. Lying is unnatural to me, it hurts. I believe everything I say.”

 

“I believe you, Luna.”

 

“Even about the creatures nobody else can see but me and Daddy?”

 

“I keep an open mind about those. I--”

 

“What are you two doing lurking about at one in the morning? Up to no good, are you?”

 

It was Filch, glaring at them by the light of his lamp. Mrs. Norris beside him meowed in an accusing tone.

 

“Mr. Filch, we had a detention with Professor Umbridge. We were just on our way back to our dorms.”

 

“Detention? Ha! Tell me another one. A detention going past curfew, what load of hippogriff dung. No, you're up to no good! Come with me to my office for your punishment.”

 

Iliana didn't have the patience for this. She took her wand out. “ _Petrificus_ _totalus_!” she said, overpowering the spell to catch both Filch and his cat at the same time.

 

“Obliviate,” she cast on Filch. She felt the memories of his last couple minutes flow through her brain. She erased them, with Hypatia's help, and replaced them with the idea that Mrs. Norris had found Peeves painting nipples on the suits of armor on the ground floor. She did the same to Mrs. Norris, and she and Luna took off before the two of them could snap out of it, casting a dispel on the petrifying spell as she rounded the corner.

 

“Dobby!”

 

Dobby appeared with a faint pop a couple feet in front of her. “Miss called--”

 

Iliana shoved Luna's hand into Dobby's and said, “Take her back to her dorm now before a teacher catches us, Dobby, please and thank you. Now!” Obliviating a squib like Filch was one thing, but if they ran into a teacher, they'd be up shite creek without a paddle.

 

Dobby nodded, and he and Luna disappeared with a pop. Iliana focused on their animagus power, and shifted into the form of a ginger cat, immediately running off to Griffindor.

 

It wasn't until she got there that she realized she'd have to shift back to human, wake up the Fat Lady, and give the password. Or so she thought.

 

[Let me,] Hypatia said. Iliana gave control of the body over to her.

 

A little ways down the corridor from the Fat Lady was, apparently, a secret passage into Griffindor that was only big enough for cats to get through. The impression of a cat's paw was embedded in the stone of the wall, barely visible even at this height; it would be invisible at human height. Hypatia touched their paw to the mark, and then ran right at the wall, phasing through it just like at platform nine and three-quarters. They came out through a hole to one side of the fireplace, behind the metal cylinder that held the fire poker in it, so you'd have to be standing right by the poker and looking down at the wall to see a cat coming through it. It all seemed a bit involved for normal cats to use, so she wondered if an animagus had put it there. Or maybe someone who owned a kneazle had put it there?

 

When they got back to their dorm room, Hypatia used a paw a crudely-carved cat's paw carved into the door. It glowed, and the door opened. They went inside, the door closed on its own, and they became human again.

 

Dobby popped quietly several feet in front of Iliana.

 

“Miss Luna Lovegood will be glad to see you is made it back safe, Miss. But she is asking Dobby to ask you why you is sending her with Dobby and not asking him to be coming back.”

 

“If you can do it without waking anyone up or letting anyone else overhear, Dobby, you can tell her that I can become a cat at will.”

 

“You is a cat animagus, Miss?”

 

“Something like that, yes. Thank you for your help, Dobby. Now go answer Luna's question, please. And let her know I'm back in my dorm.”

 

He nodded and popped away again.

 

She wished she had a two-way mirror set to call Luna on, but she didn't. Or something along similar lines. Then she could communicate securely with Luna, maybe even any time of the day. She really wanted to continue the conversation they'd been having when Filch had found them. She was still thinking about it half an hour later, just before falling asleep.

 

 

 

Endnotes: Okay so, intense chapter. Next chapter is a fun one, though, to make up for it. I mean, it's gonna start out a bit intense, but halfway through it gets fun. (Yes, I'm already almost done with the next chapter!)

 

Yes, I'm making Umbridge more horrible. Her downfall will be all the sweeter for it. Sorry for the seriousness lately, but fighting fascism is serious business. (And what Fudge and Umbridge were doing was indeed fascism, even if it was Fascism Lite.) For anyone wanting more humor in this story, I have some ideas for such in later chapters, to make it up to you.

 

Also yes, I headcanon Umbridge as a Hufflepuff. She's very loyal to Fudge, and I've always hated how almost all the villains were Slytherins in the books. (The three exceptions being two Ravenclaws and a Gryffindor.) I've also always loved the idea of a Hufflepuff villain. And given what I've read of her back story from Rowling, it's easy to see her as a Hufflepuff that went bad like rotten meat.

 

_funem stricta_ = Google Translate Latin for “tight rope.”

 

I was going to have Umbridge go after Luna a chapter or so back, but it went off the rails when I did, so I rewrote that chapter and redid the idea differently here.

 

As to Cedric, reading another fanfic made me realize he would have been in school still, since he survived in this fic. I can't believe I forgot that. Anyway, given that they don't hang out in the same circles, it's believable the Potters could have missed the fact he was there for the ten days of school they've had thus far.

 

And finally yes: the Chamber of Secrets password is now in fact Metallica lyrics. The album is from 1992, and Sirius has been keeping up with Muggle music, so it's possible for Hypatia to have heard that song. I thought that stanza was fitting. :)


	8. Defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Umbridge interferes with Sirius's Defense class, and Al gets so angry his magic reacts. Hypatia starts some new projects, and teaches Luna and Cedric some new spells she designed. Luna, Iliana, and Cedric begin to defy Umbridge.

“ **The Many Faces Go To War: Chapter 8”**

By = Fayanora

 

**Chapter Eight: Defiance**

 

Notes: Started putting dates on these chapters where possible, it helps me keep track of where I am in the story. (Something I figured out when writing my original fiction.) Dates are provided by HP Lexicon's Order of the Phoenix calendar.

 

FORMATTING FOR INTERNAL VOICES = Because the previous note about the styles was messing with the formatting, the following will be formatting for internal voices: 'Single quotes with no italics' will be Adira/Addy unless someone is quoting something, ~Text in tildes~ will be Chandra, (Parentheses for Al,) [Brackets will be Hypatia], % Percentage symbols for Iliana %, # Pound signs for Mother/Avani, # * Asterisks for Zoey, * and {curly brackets for Tier.} Apologies for any confusion this may cause.

 

Text in _'Italics and single quotes'_ is Parseltongue.

 

J. K. Rowling owns this sandbox, I'm only playing in it.

 

This chapter may contain some quotations from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

 

***FAYANORA***

 

**(Okay, this one's a bit of a roller coaster, starts off with Umbridge being really horrible, but gets better and fun about halfway through, I promise.)**

 

September 12th, 1995

 

After Adira woke up, she let Iliana write a note for Luna and slipped it into Luna's hand at the Ravenclaw table on the pretense of coming over for a good-morning hug. She would've tried a kiss, but Umbridge was already glaring at them for daring to hug each other in public, so she pulled away before Umbridge could get up to tell them off.

 

The note she'd given Luna looked like a simple love note to anyone who looked at it, but she'd found out from Fred and George that password protecting a note was an easy spell, and they'd even found her one that didn't look any different if someone tried reading it over someone else's shoulder. So Iliana had put her real message – a more detailed explanation of how she got away last night without being caught a second time – behind a password, the default message slyly hinting at the password, which was 'Xenophilius.'

 

Having delivered Iliana's note, Adira went back to the Griffindor table for breakfast.

 

If she'd been hoping for an Umbridge-free day, that hope was dashed when she saw Umbridge sitting in the corner during Defense Against the Dark Arts. When Sirius was the last person to show up, she wrote a note down on her clipboard. Sirius looked at her like she was a fresh dog turd on the sidewalk that he'd almost stepped on, but then turned away, determined to ignore her.

 

“Right. So today we'll be working on the Stunning Spell, as that's another useful spell. Even better than Expelliarmus, because even if you take their wand away, they might have a dagger or sword or something else to use against you. Some wizards or witches can even do wandless magic,” he added, looking proudly at Adira. “So making sure your enemy is unable to cast, due to being knocked--”

 

“Hem hem,” Umbridge said.

 

Ignoring her, Sirius said through clenched teeth, “--out.” He unclenched his teeth and said, “If your enemy is knocked out, they can't hurt you unless one of their buddies uses the counter-charm to wake them up, or the spell wears off. When I was fighting the first war against Vol—er, You-Know-Who, I liked to use the spell combo of Expelliarmus, Incarcerous, Stupefy. 'Stupefy' is, of course, the incantation for the Stunning Spell. That combo disarms your opponent, ties them up, and knocks them out so they can't apparate away or activate their animagus form if they have one.”

 

“Hem hem,” Umbridge repeated.

 

Without speaking, Sirius tossed something at her. She caught it. It was a bag of Muggle cough drops. She tossed it aside and said again, “HEM HEM!”

 

“Miss Patil, if you could close the window please, I think it's letting some foul-smelling hot air into the room,” Sirius said.

 

There was some scattered laughter at this, but not a lot, because Umbridge could still mete out punishments.

 

“Professor Black, did you receive my note about the time and date of your inspection?”

 

Finally he turned to face her. “It was kind of hard to miss. Any pinker and it would be ultraviolet.”

 

He laughed at his own joke with his bark-like laugh. Hermione and Adira also laughed, but nobody else got the joke.

 

Umbridge wrote on her clipboard, reading aloud what she was writing as she did. “Doesn't give clear answers to questions posed of him.”

 

“I was _quite_ clear,” he said through gritted teeth, his hands balled into fists. “If I knew it was pink, I clearly read it, or can't you read between the lines of what people are saying?”

 

Writing again, she said, “Exhibits hostility... when given constructive criticism.”

 

The anger in Adira began bubbling again. Torturing students, telling lies as facts, and now trying to get her godfather fired? Al's anger rose highest of them all, and she gripped the desk tightly as she tried to control herself.

 

The windows began to rattle, and Sirius looked around for the source. Upon seeing the look of fury she was giving Umbridge, he mouthed 'Settle down' at Adira. She tried focusing on her breathing, to calm down. She imagined Umbridge hanging from her feet and being used as a piñata as Adira hit her repeatedly with a metal baseball bat, and felt herself calm down.

 

Turning to Umbridge, Sirius said in a manner Adira had only seen from some purebloods in Slytherin and Ravenclaw, “Please excuse my rudeness, Professor Umbridge, I think perhaps I had something to eat that has given me heartburn, and therefore I am a little grumpy. My sincerest apologies, Professor.”

 

Umbridge considered him with a sour look on her face. But she didn't seem to be able to find any sign of sarcasm in his tone, so she nodded.

 

“Apology accepted, Professor Black.”

 

“Thank you for your generosity of spirit, Professor Umbridge,” Sirius responded.

 

“Before you continue, Professor Black, just one teensy suggestion, if I may?”

 

His face twitched with irritation, but he was still 'pureblood polite' when he answered her. “But of course, Professor Umbridge.”

 

“I just wonder why you are teaching your students to fear attack, when they are safely tucked away in school, where nothing can harm them?”

 

Sirius's eyes widened, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Adira also sensed he was unsure how to answer. Well, unsure how to answer in a way that wouldn't make matters worse for himself.

 

“Whadda ya mean we're safe in school?” Seamus Finnegan blurted out. “Do yeh not remember the troll in the dungeon in our first year? Or how 'bout the Heir of Slytherin attacking Muggle-borns in our second year? Then we all thought there was a mad murderer loose in our third year, and there were dragons and stuff in our fourth year, yeh can't tell me that was safe, no matter how many precautions were taken!”

 

“Your hand is not up, Mr. Finnegan! Ten points from Griffindor.”

 

“Hey--- I mean... pardon me, Professor Umbridge, but I'm the teacher here now, I give out or take away points!”

 

“I am the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, Professor Black. I outrank you. The point deduction stands.”

 

“He's right, though,” Parvati Patil said. “We've been in danger every year in this school since we got here! And even if we weren't, there's still dark wizards out in the world!”

 

“Your hand was not up, Miss Patil. Another ten points from Griffindor. But to address your point, since we cannot have such ridiculous nonsense go un-addressed, there are no dark wizards out in the world to harm you, children. You are safe here in these walls. I know in the past there may have been mistakes, but the Ministry is now here to correct those mistakes. We have already dealt with one such danger, by removing the dangerous half-breed Remus Lupin from--”

 

“Moony is _human_ , you horrible woman,” Sirius snapped. “Lupin, I mean. He's got a sickness, but he's only dangerous once a month and he was taking Wolfsbane Potion and locking himself in a cage during the full moon! There was no chance in Hell of him being a danger to anyone!”

 

Writing on her clipboard, Umbridge said, “Insults his coworkers... when riled. Uses foul language... in front of children. Argues in favor... of letting dangerous beasts... roam the school unchecked.”

 

“OUT! Get out of my classroom NOW!”

 

“Has a violent temper,” she said, writing again. “Cannot have... a polite discussion... if there is a disagreement, and screams... in lieu of arguing his case.”

 

CRACK! Everyone jumped as the windows all broke down the middle. The room was shaking again, and Adira was gripping the desk so hard it was splintering in her hands. Sirius, panic in his face, said, “Adira, maybe you should go cool off.” He aimed his wand at the first broken window and said, “ _Reparo_.”

 

“Is aware... of his godson's dangerous temper... and does nothing... to protect the other students... from his wrath.”

 

The windows Sirius hadn't gotten around to repairing shattered. Sirius stopped them from raining glass on people with a wave of his wand.

 

“ADDY, GO NOW!”

 

“Does not... punish... his godson's... misbehavior.”

 

“Get a grip on yourself, Addy,” Hermione said, getting her own grip on Adira's arm.

 

“ _Reparo_ ,” Sirius said, repairing all the windows at once by overpowering the spell. “ _Duro_.”

 

“Oh Mr. Potter? Before you go to 'cool off,' you have another detention with me tonight before dinner. And let's see, for damaging school property, let's make it another week's detention. And for the Saturday detention, I will expect you in my office at 8 am sharp. You may go now.”

 

She was grinning maliciously at Adira, and was chuckling as Adira stormed out.

 

As she stormed through the hallways, intending to go to the Room of Requirement and blast some effigies of Umbridge into dust, the walls shook and the windows rattled. Then Peeves appeared.

 

“What's shaking, Potty wee Potter? Oooh, it's you!”

 

“Get off it, Peeves!”

 

“Oooh, crackpot's feeling cranky!”

 

She shot a 'langlock' at him, but he ducked.

 

“Oh Potty wee Potter, she rattles the walls,

The doors and the windows, and the floors in the halls!

The glass it cracks and falls to the floor,

Who knows when ol' Hoggywarts can't take no more?

 

“Will she swallow it up through a crack in the ground?

Will there be something left but a small earthen mound?

Will we have time to scream, and run for our lives?

Will Dolly Umbitch be attacked by bee hives?”

 

Adira reached out with her wandless magic and grabbed Peeves with it, shoving him roughly into a keyhole with it precisely as Professor McGonagall came out of her office.

 

“Please stop rattling the castle, Miss Potter!”

 

Forcing herself to calm down until the rattling subsided, she said, “Sorry, Professor McGonagall. We lost control again. She's trying to get Sirius sacked!”

 

McGonagall looked around, then cast privacy spells around the two of them.

 

“I see. And did she give you more detentions?”

 

“I... yes, Professor.”

 

“I seem to recall telling you I would take away the team captaincy from you if that happened again.”

 

She sighed. “Yes, we remember that too.”

 

“Well I suppose I should be more careful what I say in the future, Miss Potter.”

 

“What? What do you mean?”

 

“I mean none of the other players with the experience to be team captain are really temperamentally suited to the job, nor prepared. And I was suitably impressed by the fact you have reserve players for all positions, including a Deputy Captain, and I was further impressed by that practice schedule you drew up. Also, it would irritate Professor Umbridge to not punish you further, so I will not be demoting you today. But I warn you lot: get a hold of your tempers, because next time I will not be so generous. I will be ensuring that your deputy Captain is properly trained and prepared to take over for you the next time you lose your temper with Professor Umbridge. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, we understand. We'll try to be good.”

 

“See that you do. Oh, and 50 points from Griffindor for letting your temper get away from you.”

 

Adira wanted to protest, but that was fair. They'd nearly gotten someone seriously injured, after all. She didn't know if McGonagall knew that, but she wasn't about to tell her in case she didn't.

 

“Now, Miss Potter, since it is unsafe for you to be around Professor Umbridge at this time, go to Madam Pomfrey for a Calming Draught.”

 

“Yes, Professor McGonagall, that sounds like a good idea.”

 

McGonagall dismissed her, and she turned to go to the hospital wing.

 

~

September 12th and 13th, 1995

 

That night, Adira dreamed of a long dark hallway with a locked door at the end of it. When she woke up, she found herself reaching out to grasp a doorknob that wasn't there.

 

“I wonder what that was about?” she asked herself aloud. There was no answer, so she got up out of bed.

 

Before breakfast, she went to Sirius's room behind Godric Griffindor's portrait and told Godric the password. She hoped her godfather wasn't undressed in there, and was relieved to find he wasn't walking around the place in the buff. Adira had to look for him in several different rooms before finding him in his bedroom, having just finished dressing.

 

“HOLY-- Adira? I didn't hear you come in. You do know there's a doorbell right next to the portrait, right?”

 

“Er, sorry. I guess I do now.”

 

“Right. Well what's wrong, pup? You look upset.”

 

She wanted to tell him that she and Cedric had another detention with Umbridge the night before, where they'd watched as Umbridge tortured Luna with the blood quill. But of course, she couldn't do that.

 

“I had a dream about walking down a long, dark corridor ending in a locked room. I was frustrated by the locked door in the dream.”

 

“Um... okay. And?”

 

“And it seemed weird. Like I wasn't me. Which, now I say that aloud, makes it more suspicious. I think my Occlumency failed last night. It would make sense, given I had another detention last night.”

 

“Yes, that makes sense. Do you think it's Voldemort? That you were seeing through his eyes?”

 

“If we're a horcrux of his, and that's the reason for the mental connection, then... wait a minute... do horcruxes normally have mental connections to one another?”

 

“I dunno, pup. A bit out of my league, that one. I'll ask Dumbledore about it. You reckon I should tell him about the dream?”

 

“Yeah, I think so.” She paused a moment, then asked, “Do you think it was the Department of Mysteries? I've never been there, but if he's obsessed with the prophecy, it would make sense he was thinking about the place. Or reading the mind of someone who'd been there.”

 

“I don't know either, but that makes too much sense to ignore. I'll tell Dumbledore about it. Do you know how to take a memory out of your head for a Pensieve?”

 

“Hypatia does,” she said. She lifted her wand to her temple. Hypatia did the incantation nonverbally, and they pulled the memory of the dream out as a gossamer fine thread of glowing mist, putting it into the phial Sirius handed her, and giving it to him.

 

“Thanks. If it's the place, Dumbledore will recognize it. I think it's on the way to one of the old courtrooms they used to use for trials during the war. Naturally, I never saw the place because I never got a trial. Not even after the fact! Peter got one, but Fudge just pardoned me without my own trial. Not that I'm complaining about being pardoned, mind you.”

 

“Right. Well... I don't really feel like seeing the old toad again this morning, Sirius. Can we get the elves to bring us breakfast here today?”

 

“Sure thing, pup. I feel the same way. Dobby!”

 

Dobby popped into place in front of them. “Yes, Professor Black Sir?”

 

“Adira and I are having breakfast in here, if you'd consent to serve us here.”

 

Dobby nodded excitedly. “Of course, Sir and Miss, Dobby will be getting you breakfast. Is you wanting anything special?”

 

“Just some of whatever everyone else is having, Dobby,” Adira said.

 

“And a plate of waffles for me, Dobby,” Sirius said. “Er, in addition to what Adira said, not a substitution.”

 

“Of course, Sir and Miss! Dobby will be back soon!”

 

Adira and Sirius went into the dining room and sat down, where they began to talk about this and that while they waited for Dobby. A few minutes later, he and another two elves appeared with small pops. Dobby set down a plate with half a dozen waffles to one side while the other two elves placed large plates in front of Addy and Sirius, each plate full with eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, a plate of butter, and several jams. Dobby then snapped his fingers, and a large jug of orange juice appeared. Another snap, and a pot of real maple syrup appeared.

 

“Thank you, Dobby. And thank you two as well,” Adira said to the other two elves. “Um... what are your names?”

 

“I is Bipsy,” said a female elf. “And he is being Tipsy.”

 

“Well then, lay off the butterbeer in that case,” Sirius said, laughing at his own joke.

 

The elf rolled his eyes. “Tipsy is _never_ hearing _that_ joke before, Sir, no, not even once... _today_.”

 

The elves all bowed and Disapparated.

 

“A sarcastic elf. Who knew?” Sirius said, shrugging, before digging into his food.

 

~

September 13th, 1995

 

Later that day, Adira found herself blacking out for the first time ever. She found herself outside of the Fat Lady's portrait, but the last she'd remembered, she'd been in the library. She checked her watch and found her break was almost over.

 

'Anyone know why we blacked out?'

 

[Yes,] Hypatia said. [I borrowed the body for a bit, but didn't want you knowing what I was doing. It's a surprise. I would've done it last night when you were asleep, but these detentions make that impossible. Hence, blackout.]

 

'Well it's disconcerting. Can you not do that?'

 

[Are you saying you'd rather be given false memories?]

 

'I... um... yes, actually.'

 

[Duly noted,] she said. [Now you should hurry before you're late to class.]

 

~

September 13th , 14th, and 15th, 1995

 

Detention with Umbridge on Friday and Saturday was grueling. They weren't allowed dinner on Friday night or breakfast on Saturday. Adira sent Luna some sandwiches at 1 in the morning on Friday via Dobby. Thankfully, they were allowed lunch, because they were all suitably downtrodden by then, and they ate without even knowing what any of it was, which was probably for the best, since it all tasted like cardboard to them after getting maybe five hours of sleep between two hours-long torture sessions in Umbridge's office. Adira and the others sharing her body had thought the black quill was torture enough, but watching Luna go through that was far worse for them. Cedric probably would have agreed if she'd had the energy to ask him.

 

After lunch, Umbridge put them through another three hours of her detentions before finally letting them go after Luna's hand ceased healing. Adira didn't know where Cedric went after that, but Iliana spent the rest of the afternoon letting Luna cry into her shoulder, feeling too beaten down to cry herself. If the Dursleys had been half as good at abusing children as Umbridge was, Adira thought they'd probably have become one of the stereotypical multiples with regular blackouts and being unaware of one another. Not that she believed multiplicity was caused by childhood trauma – if it was, there'd have been probably a billion people with the condition living in the world right now – but she _did_ believe childhood trauma could make multiplicity worse. Mainly because if this kept up much longer, she'd probably tell Hypatia to put a construct in her place so they wouldn't have to watch Luna being tortured anymore.

 

On Sunday, Adira woke up to find the room was far brighter than it should be. She quickly put her glasses on and checked her watch, and discovered it was almost noon. She was late for her detention!

 

[Calm down, you're not. You're in your detention right now. So are Luna and Cedric. After a fashion.]

 

'What do you mean, Hypatia?'

 

[This is that surprise I mentioned. Well, okay, this is actually a different surprise than the one I mentioned, but I'm giving you this one first because it was strangely easier than the other one. Still haven't worked the kinks out of that one, but---]

 

'HYPATIA!'

 

[Alright, alright. So look over there.]

 

Adira looked at her desk, which had books about Transfiguration on it, as well as a book called “Runic Magic for Use With Transfiguration” by Kavi Rishi. There were also copious notes in Hypatia's handwriting, and an annotated drawing of a human-looking figure looking like a modern interpretation of the vitruvian man. Her attention then turned to the chair by the desk, which had wood carving tools and scraps of wood on it.

 

“What is all this?” Adira asked, too confused to realize she'd spoken aloud.

 

[Do you remember that giant chess set McGonagall made in our first year?]

 

“Yes.”

 

[And that time Zoey made a thing that kind of looked like Molly Weasley, but fell apart very quickly and had to be controlled the entire time?]

 

“Yes! What about it?”

 

[Well it's possible to make even more realistic moving figures like that. Same concept as when McGonagall turned her desk into a pig, just a lot more complicated because humans are the result of evolution getting drunk as a skunk and then getting high on weed. By all rights, the fact we can walk upright the way we do is just plain weird. Point is, transfigured things that look like humans are very difficult to make. It takes a lot of power and control. Dumbledore could do it, Voldemort probably could too. Us, not so much. So I had to cheat a little. Well, no, I had to cheat a LOT.]

 

“Are you going to approach a point anytime soon?”

 

[My point is that with some runes, a couple small rituals – one of which involved sacrificing a small bit of basilisk venom, and a little wishful thinking, I made three very lifelike figures to replace you, Luna, and Cedric for the duration of your detentions. They even bleed! The blood wouldn't stand up to close scrutiny, and might even dissolve the parchment after a few days if she doesn't just Vanish them when we're done with them, and I had to put in runes so I could control the figures remotely because otherwise they'd be so stupid they wouldn't fool anybody, but... yeah. No more detentions for the week.]

 

Adira felt like she had to pick her jaw off the floor, at that.

 

“What the... that's incredible! How'd you even think of that?”

 

[Just thought, back during the first set of detentions, 'Too bad I can't do like Zoey did that one time and trick Umbridge into thinking we're there when we're not. Or _can_ I?' I thought of it the third day of the first set of detentions, and it took me that long to figure out how to do it, but I did it. Oh, and if you open the library compartment of the trunk, don't scream. I made another figure that looks like me, so I could stop making excuses to Draco for why I'm never around anymore. I stored it in the trunk.]

 

“Holy crap! Fred and George would probably pay us back all the gold Al gave them in exchange for the knowledge of how to do that!”

 

[If you even mention these figures to them, I will modify Iliana's figure to look like you and make it run naked through the Great Hall.]

 

“Alright, alright! I won't tell them. But what if they see one of the figures and figure out it doesn't show up on the Map?”

 

[I'll burn that bridge when we get to it. After all, they had that Map for how many years without realizing Scabbers wasn't a real rat? For now, I should tell you about the catch.]

 

“A catch? Oh, right. Of _course_ there's a catch. What's the catch?”

 

[The catch is you three have to remain out of sight when those figures are out. Oh and by the way, I sort of kidnapped Cedric and Luna and put them in the Room of Requirement. They're still out cold. Used a new spell I invented over the summer on them. Don't worry, I tested it out on animals and the Weasley twins once we got our magic back, so I know the spell is safe.]

 

'What spell is that?' Adira finally said in her head instead of aloud.

 

[It's a type of stunning spell that doesn't wear off on its own. It has to be undone either with the specific counter-charm it's paired with, or cracked by a curse-breaker. I call it the Sleeping Beauty Spell. The incantation is 'Altum somnum.' The counter-charm is 'Princeps venustus.'] She sent Adira the wand movement for the spell, which looked like tracing out a stylized apple. The counter-charm's wand movement resembled stylized human lips.

 

'So we need to go into the Room of Requirement, explain all this to Cedric and Luna without them hexing us, and wait in there until the figures find us in the Room of Requirement? Then you, what, shrink them down and put them in your pocket?'

 

[Yes, that's it exactly.]

 

'Right. Well okay, here goes.'

 

Adira packed the books and information away in her trunk in case anyone came in when she wasn't here, put the Marauder's Map in her pocket, then she called Dobby and had him transport her to the Room of Requirement, where she found two beds. Cedric was sleeping on one, Luna on the other.

 

“ _Princeps_ _venustus_ ,” she cast on Luna first. But it didn't do anything.

 

[Oh, sorry. Both spells are nonverbal only.]

 

Sighing, Adira tried again, casting nonverbally. This time, it worked.

 

Luna opened her eyes, yawned, then seemed to notice her surroundings. She bolted upright, her wand out and trained on Adira. Addy put her own hands up defensively, an effect slightly ruined by the fact she still had her wand in one hand.

 

“What did the Potters say to me the first time they met me?” she asked.

 

“Um... you said 'You're Iliana Potter,' and Iliana said 'Uh... yeah I am. Sorry I didn't introduce myself. Who're you?'”

 

“Good memory,” Luna said, lowering her wand. “But the correct answer was 'Um, hi. Is it okay if we sit here?'”

 

“Oh. Er, right. Sorry. You still think it's really us?”

 

“Well... just to be sure, Chandra should say something.”

 

“Okay.” She paused a moment, listening to him in her head, then said, “Um... he says 'The moon is far brighter than most give her credit for, but she will find herself outshone ere the afternoon has expired.'”

 

“Interesting. Yes, that sounds like Chandra. But what does he mean?”

 

Suddenly, Adira was replaced by Iliana, who hugged Luna.

 

“Oh hello, Iliana.”

 

“Hi, Luna. Um... to answer your question, well... this is a little complicated.”

 

Luna sat attentively on the bed, listening to Iliana's explanation of what Hypatia had done, Iliana pacing back and forth during the explanation. When Iliana stopped talking, Luna cocked her head.

 

“Impressive. But how will we eat?”

 

“Simple. Dobby!”

 

Dobby returned, having brought breakfast for three people with him, anticipating their needs. Two of the trays were balanced precariously on the first tray, but he managed it. The Room provided a dining table, and he set the trays down on it.

 

“Thank you, Dobby. Um... you should probably stay for a few moments. Cedric might be grumpy when he wakes up.”

 

That was an understatement. Upon finding himself somewhere unfamiliar, he bolted upright and sent a hex at Iliana that she barely managed to avoid in time. Dobby snapped his fingers, and Cedric's wand flew into Iliana's hand. He snapped them again, and Cedric was restrained by an invisible force.

 

“Cedric. Al told you about the dragons before the First Task because it was fair. And I think the first time any of us said anything to you was when I told you about the Impervious Charm that time it was raining so much I thought we'd have to build an ark.”

 

At these words, Cedric stopped resisting the restraints.

 

“Alright, so it's really you. What about Luna?”

 

“You really should let Daddy check you for franzles, Cedric. They make it difficult for people to know who to trust. If you have an infestation of them, Daddy makes a lovely gurdyroot tea that will clear them right up.”

 

“Er, hi Luna,” Cedric said. “Someone want to tell me what's going on?”

 

Iliana thought about letting Luna explain it, but then realized Cedric might not understand any of Luna's explanations, so she did it instead. When she was done, Cedric's jaw had dropped.

 

“You made a realistic human figure that can pass as human, operates semi-independently, and it even bleeds realistically? Do you have any idea what you could do with that? It'd be basically a human-shaped decoy! Send it out in a battle situation, and it would take any curses for you!”

 

“Er, yeah. That'd be Hypatia's doing.”

 

“Who? Oh wait, do you mean the person you mentioned who made that giant Patronus possible?”

 

“Yes, that was her.”

 

“Oh. Cool. So she made those figures?”

 

“Yes. She's making some new spells, too. Um... like the spell I knocked you out with. It doesn't respond to ' _Rennervate_.' It has its own counter-charm. And, uh, it's nonverbal only. So is the counter-charm.”

 

“Wow! You know, that would solve a major problem in wizard battles. Use a regular stunner, and anyone can wake them back up again, including their allies. Hit someone with that, though, and only people who know the counter-charm can undo it! How long does it last?”

 

“According to Hypatia, it lasts indefinitely if used on a witch or wizard. It feeds off the person's own magic to power itself, so that means it's got a drawback that it doesn't work that way on Muggles. On Muggles, it wears off in the same amount of time as a normal Stunner. But it still can't be lifted before that without the specific counter-charm.”

 

“Well can we see it in action?”

 

“Oh. Sure. Why not?”

 

The Room provided her an effigy of Umbridge that was far too realistic for her taste. She pointed her wand at it.

 

' _Altum_ _somnum_!' she cast nonverbally. A red light shot from her wand and struck the effigy.

 

“Wow. You even got it to look and behave like a regular Stunner. Ha! The enemy wouldn't even know their comrade had been hit by anything but a normal Stunner, until they tried to use 'Rennervate' on them! Brilliant!”

 

“Yeah. And both the incantation for the spell and for the counter-charm are nonverbal only, so the enemy wouldn't know how to counter it even if they saw someone using the counter right in front of them.”

 

“Amazing,” Luna said. “But I'm ready to eat now.”

 

“Right, I'm starving too. But I should shower first,” Cedric said.

 

The Room, of course, provided. Before too long, they had all showered, changed in private stalls, and then were together at the table eating breakfast—well, brunch really. Then once they'd eaten, Iliana taught the new spell to Cedric and Luna both, and they spent some time practicing it.

 

“Wow. I don't suppose you have anything else you'd be willing to share?”

 

'What do you say, Hypatia?'

 

[Oh... let me think... hmm... I suppose it couldn't hurt to teach you and your friends the Exploding Head Curse. No, it doesn't actually make their head explode. Perhaps I should rename it. What it does is it makes a person hallucinate a very loud noise that fades in about ten minutes unless you lift it sooner.] She sent Iliana the details.

 

“Um... I don't have a good name for this one yet, but I have one that makes the victim hallucinate a loud noise.”

 

“Okay,” Cedric said. “You can try it on me.”

 

Iliana decided to practice on the effigy first. When nothing seemed to happen to it, then she tried it on Cedric.

 

“ _Allucinatus tumultum_!”

 

Cedric went down at once, clutching his ears to try to protect them from a sound that was entirely in his head. The only sound the two girls heard, though, was his screams.

 

“ _Tumultum quietus_!”

 

Cedric collapsed with relief. “Oh crap, I'd say that one's pretty damned effective in battle.”

 

Iliana cocked her head again, listening to Hypatia. When she was done, she said, “We have another one that's kinder but also effective. Stops a person from being able to cast a spell. I call it the Singing Spell.” She aimed at Luna and said, “ _Cantabo 'Greensleeves'_!”

 

Luna's eyes widened as she found herself starting to sing at the spell's compulsion:

 

“'Alas my love you do me wrong

To cast me off discourteously;

And I have loved you oh so long

Delighting in your company.

 

“Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves my heart of gold

Greensleeves was my heart of joy

And who but my Lady Greensleeves.

 

“I have been ready at your hand

To grant whatever thou would'st crave;

I have waged both life and land

Your love and goodwill for to have.

 

“Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves my heart of gold

Greensleeves was my heart of joy

And who but my Lady Greensleeves.'”

 

“ _Normalis loquela_.”

 

“You stopped me before I finished,” Luna said, disappointed.

 

“Yes, well, I had to make sure the counter-charm worked. But I let you carry on past the second stanza because your singing voice is lovely, Luna.”

 

“I agree,” Cedric said. “I wanted to hear more.”

 

“Hmm... Iliana, how does that spell work? I mean... does it only work if the person knows the song, or do you have to provide the lyrics for them when you cast it?”

 

“That's... I don't know. Let's find out. _Cantabo 'Monster Mash'_!” she cast at Cedric. Nothing happened. So she cast it again, keeping the lyrics in her mind as she did, which made it harder to cast. He glared at her as he sang:

 

"'I was working in the lab late one night

When my eyes beheld an eerie sight

For my monster from his slab began to rise

And suddenly to my surprise

 

“'He did the mash! He did the monster mash

He did the mash! It was a graveyard smash

He did the mash! It caught on in a flash

He did the mash! He did the monster mash!'"

 

Luna and Iliana were both laughing so hard at this that Iliana couldn't get the counter-charm out, and Cedric didn't stop singing until the song was over. Glaring at Iliana, he cast “Cantabo '99 Bottles of Butterbeer on the Wall'!”

 

“Ninety-nine Bottles of Butterbeer on the Wall,

Ninety-nine Bottles of Butterbeer!

Take one down, pass it around,

Ninety-eight Bottles of Butterbeer on the Wall!”

 

Cedric crossed his arms and let her sing down to “89 bottles of butterbeer on the wall” before lifting the spell. By this point, Luna was laughing so hard she was on the floor in a ball, wheezing while still laughing. Since they couldn't take her to the hospital wing, Iliana Stunned her with the regular Stunning Spell instead, 'rennervating' her a minute later. But a few seconds later, she went back to laughing fit to burst.

 

[I have another one for you.] Hypatia sent her the details.

 

“ _E_ _t cessabit,_ ” Iliana cast at Luna.

 

Luna glowed blue a moment, then slowly began to stop laughing. Finally, she calmed down enough to sit up and wipe the tears of mirth from her eyes.

 

“A calming charm? Wow, Iliana! You should show Flitwick that one.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes really!”

 

“Oh. Well okay then, I think I will. Later, though. During class, I think. Are you feeling better, Luna?”

 

“Oh yes, quite well thank you.”

 

(OH MY GODS!) Al thought loudly. (I just had a brilliant idea for later! Cast that Singing Spell on Snape!)

 

% Ha! But no, I think I'll let Fred and George do that. They'd love it. %

 

(Just make sure to tell them to do it somewhere Sirius can see it happen.)

 

“What's so funny now, Iliana?”

 

“Al just suggested casting the Singing Spell on Snape!”

 

“Ooh, better give that one to the Weasley twins. They're better at avoiding getting into trouble. And they're clever enough to have come up with it themselves.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

“By the way,” Cedric said, “I gather the caster of the Singing Spell has to know the lyrics? Because I've certainly never heard that 'Monster Mash' song before.”

 

“Actually, it can work either by the caster providing the lyrics, or the victim knowing them already. But if the caster has to provide the lyrics, it's a lot harder to cast. When I hit Luna with it, she already knew the lyrics.”

 

Luna nodded at this. “It's one of my favorite songs. I also like 'Scarborough Fair.'”

 

“Oh Luna, will you sing it for us? I really do love your singing voice, it's beautiful.”

 

Luna blushed. “Well okay then.”

 

Cedric and Iliana sat down in seats provided by the Room. Luna stood by one of the beds, cleared her throat, then began to sing:

 

“Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;

Remember me to one who lives there,

For she was once a true love of mine.

 

“Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;

Without any seam or needlework,

Then she shall be a true love of mine...”

 

She kept going, finishing the whole song. When she was done, her audience of two applauded. Then, with their encouragement, she sang some Irish songs, like “Arthur McBride,” “Foggy Dew,” “I'm a Rover Seldom Sober,” and “Danny Boy.” That last one moved the two of them to tears, so Luna finished off with “The Little Beggarman.”

 

Luna was trying to decide if she wanted to do another song when the door opened up and... Luna, Cedric, and Iliana all walked in. Cedric jumped up and lifted his wand at them as the door closed behind them.

 

“Iliana, are these our doubles?”

 

“Yes. And uh, they weren't followed. Thank goodness for that.”

 

The three figures, which looked identical to the three humans except that they were disheveled, Luna's figure was bleeding from its right hand, and all three of the figures looked like they'd been ugly crying for hours. These constructs all sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall like marionettes with their strings cut. Iliana went over to them, shrunk them to the size of action figures, and put them in her pockets.

 

Cedric eyed her pockets warily. “That was unnerving,” he said. “They look just like us. It was like somebody with Polyjuice Potion was standing there. Maybe you shouldn't tell anybody how to make those things. They'd be really easy to abuse.”

 

“Yeah, I agree,” Iliana said at the same time as Luna. The two girls laughed at their sudden stereo speech.

 

“Anyway, yeah, I'm locking any information about these things away somewhere safe, and putting every kind of concealment and secrecy spell on the information that I can find.”

 

“Hey, Iliana? Would I be able to meet Hypatia? She saved our lives, but I've never seen her before.”

 

“I would also like to meet her,” Luna said.

 

“Okay... but she's still a secret. The reason why is that she's friends with Draco Malfoy, and she's scared he'll reject her if he finds out who she really is.”

 

“Malfoy? Really? But you and he hate each--- oh. Yeah, I can see why that would be a fear she'd have. So can we meet her?”

 

Iliana nodded. “Just one thing first, though. She uh... she has a weird affect. She laughs when she's sad and cries when she's happy.”

 

“Oh. Okay,” Cedric said.

 

“Fascinating,” said Luna. “I've heard stories about the Fair Folk having issues like that.”

 

Iliana closed her eyes, letting her and Hypatia switch places. Before their eyes, Iliana's skin turned brown, her hair white and formed into dreadlocks, and she had squarish spectacles on her face. When she opened her eyes, they were amber.

 

“Hello, Hypatia,” Cedric said. “Thanks for saving my life last June.”

 

“You're welcome,” she said. Then she turned to Luna, examining her like she was looking at a specimen under a microscope.

 

“Hello, Hypatia. I'm Luna Lovegood.”

 

Luna held out her hand. Hypatia looked at it, suddenly feeling nervous as she felt the full impact of this form kick in. She took Luna's hand and shook it.

 

“Hello, Luna. It's... good to meet you.”

 

“Yes, I imagine it is, since you only have the one friend,” she said.

 

Hypatia tensed up, glaring at Luna. Luna ignored this and sighed wistfully. “I remember what it felt like to have no friends. I'm glad I have some now. Iliana and the other Potters, Ginny, and Hermione. Not Ron yet, but he's an acquaintance. I'm much too weird to him for us to be friends yet. Funny, really, since he's friends with your group. You all are weirder than I am. Anyway, would you like to be friends with me?”

 

At Luna's words, Hypatia relaxed, and smiled. “I'd like to try for that, at least. You're right that Draco is my only friend.”

 

“And I could be a friend, too, Hypatia,” Cedric said.

 

“It's a possibility. But we'd have to get to know each other better, all three of us, before that happened. Knowing the other Potters isn't the same as knowing me.”

 

The two of them nodded.

 

Hypatia looked at the time, and then pulled the Marauder's Map out of her pocket and looked at it for several moments.

 

“It's almost dinner. Cedric, Umbitch is in her quarters. It should be safe for you to leave now.”

 

“Cool, thanks. By the way, before I go, I have to say I had a lot of fun today, with Iliana and Luna. And it was nice meeting you, Hypatia.”

 

“Iliana also had fun,” Hypatia said.

 

“It was lovely,” Luna agreed.

 

“Yes. I'm going to go now,” Hypatia said.

 

“Bye! I hope I see you later,” Luna said.

 

“Me too,” agreed Cedric.

 

Hypatia nodded, and switched places with Iliana, their form becoming the redhead again.

 

Iliana looked at her watch and said, “I think we should all wait another fifteen minutes, then go down to dinner. That'll give us time to 'clean up' after we were all supposedly crying earlier. Just remember to try to look despondent. Umbridge never takes her meals in her quarters.”

 

“Right. Well, guess I'll see you two tomorrow. Um... unless she wants us back after dinner?”

 

“No, she doesn't. I would have mentioned it if she did.”

 

“Good. Well, tomorrow. Um... how should we get here so we're not seen?”

 

“Dobby and I will take care of it again. Just try to be up by 7:30 in the morning.”

 

“Ugh. Okay. Thanks again, Iliana, Hypatia.”

 

They waited, then Iliana sent Cedric ahead so they weren't all traveling together at once. Once he was a ways down the corridor, she and Luna started off towards the Great Hall too.

 

“I think I want to sit next to you at the Griffindor table, Iliana. I think it's what I'd want if I'd been going through a lot of stress like that. I'd want to be close to you, after being apart from you for so many hours.”

 

“Okay. But be careful, Umbridge hates public displays of affection.”

 

“Yes. But then after dinner, we should go back to the Room and cuddle. Spending time with you and Cedric was fun, but I would have preferred to cuddle you instead.”

 

“I like the way you think, Luna. Yes, Room of Requirement again it is.”

 

~

 

The next week went by much faster, though all the forced time with Cedric annoyed Iliana because he was unintentionally in the way of potential alone time with her girlfriend. Still, she refused to let any of the others spend that time with Luna. Anyway, after the first couple days, Cedric was usually over in one corner reading the books the room provided, doing homework, or doing something else by himself. But the detentions were lengthy enough that the three of them still spent a lot of time together that week. To shake things up, every now and then Hypatia would show up, but she didn't really know how to socialize, and spent most of her time Out around them talking about things that went over both their heads. She never spent more than an hour at a time Out around Cedric and Luna, either, usually feeling very awkward by the end of the hour and retreating Inside.

 

On the second to last day of the detentions, the room split itself into two separate rooms, finally giving Luna and Iliana some privacy to snuggle on the sofa together. By the end of the last night's detention, they'd progressed to kissing.

 

Knowing they were secretly defying Umbridge made her classes easier to get through, for all of them. Luna found Umbridge's vexed expressions at her unflappable calm to be amusing. Cedric had to stifle laughter for similar reasons, and not even Al could be angry at her when he was thinking about how they were lazing around in the Room of Requirement while transfigured constructs were taking their detentions for them without her being any the wiser. They all made it through the week without adding to the detention time, despite the fact that Trelawney and Sirius were both getting regular inspections from Umbridge.

 

Sometimes, though, the three of them got bored of doing their own thing, and started practicing defensive spells together. The idea had been Luna's, after a discussion wherein they all agreed that Sirius was probably going to be the first teacher sacked. But the relief from the umbrage caused by Umbridge gave the Potters a fresh perspective on that: if Sirius was sacked, so what? It was fun while it lasted, but it's not like he needed the money. Either one of their vaults would have been more than enough to support both of them. For Sirius, this was a diversion, something to do with his time.

 

Yet as Luna pointed out, Sirius would probably get replaced by some ineffectual nobody they'd learn nothing useful from, and then Defense Against the Dark Arts would be crap again. Her thinking behind this was that Fudge was paranoid about Dumbledore. "And if I were in his position," she'd said, "I'd worry he was raising an army. The things Umbridge had said during her inspections of Defense class suggested that level of paranoia to me. Of course, Fudge is raising his own private army of heliopaths for the Rotfang Conspiracy, so naturally he must think Dumbledore is into his little scheme and intends to stop him. From his perspective, Dumbledore already took down two dark lords, so why not a third?"

 

"Oh Luna, never change."

 

"Now, I can't promise that, Iliana. Everyone and everything is changing, all the time. Change is the only constant in the universe."

 

"Well, that and the speed of light," Iliana said with a grin.

 

"Ah yes, that too, I suppose."

 

"Anyway, Luna, even if some useless lump replaces Sirius, what does it matter? I mean, it's not like we could do anything about it."

 

"Sure we could. We could start a secret Defense club, and you could teach it. Or Adira could."

 

"What? I... no, that's absurd, Luna!"

 

"More absurd than blibbering humdingers?"

 

Iliana laughed. "No, I suppose not. But I'm not a teacher!"

 

"You taught Hypatia's new spells to me and Cedric. And practicing spells with you and Cedric has improved my own skills."

 

"That's probably just Sirius's teaching. Nothing to do with me."

 

Luna pulled Iliana closer to her in the sofa they were lying on. "Perhaps. But you do teach at least as well as Sirius does. Trust me on this, I know what I'm talking about."

 

"Well, I want to believe you, but I just don't know. Addy doesn't know about it either."

 

"Have a little faith in yourself, Iliana. Think about it, at least. If Umbridge is still in power long enough to replace Sirius, think about teaching a secret Defense club. Will you do that for me?" Luna kissed her on the lips briefly, making Iliana giggle.

 

"Okay, fine, I'll think it over. Now get over here so I can nibble on your ears!"

 

Luna shrieked with delighted laughter as Iliana tried nibbling on her ear, eventually retaliating by tickling her mercilessly until she couldn't breathe. When Iliana recovered, she started chasing Luna around the room with a pillow. Soon there were feathers everywhere, all worries about torture detentions and evil teachers forgotten.

 

~

_September 21 st, 1995_

 

Iliana was glad to be rid of Umbridge's detentions again. She woke up early that morning ready for their first real Quidditch practice of the year. She was surprised soon after waking, though, by a pair of wizard-style notebooks on the desk that hadn't been there before. They were bound in black leather. Both were embossed in gold, one reading “Luna,” the other reading “Iliana.” There was a note left on top of them, which Iliana read.

 

_Iliana,_

 

_This is that second surprise I mentioned before. Took me a while to sort it out, it was strangely difficult because it involved a complicated charm. Charms aren't really my strong suit, hence this taking so long. Anyway, the specific charm is the Protean Charm. You should be made aware that I used the body during the day a few times to get help with it from Hermione. She knows it was me and none of you, though. Anyway, what it does is that if you write in one book, the writing shows up in the other book when you're done with your sentence or paragraph. And it does it in different ink colors so you can tell which of you wrote in it. Black for Iliana, blue for Luna. It also has a lot more pages in it than appearance would suggest, and can basically be used for a decade of daily use before it starts to run out._

 

_There are protections on them, too. They are password protected to look like Charms notes without the password. Hermione helped me on that bit, too. (The Charms notes, not the password protection spell.) Even if someone is reading over your shoulder while you're writing to Luna in it, it will look to them like Charms notes, including anything new being written, without looking suspicious. If anyone but Luna or one of us tries writing in it, the ink won't stick to the page. The book is also waterproof, can't be easily torn, burned, or Vanished, and has a homing beacon that responds to a verbal command by its owner or the owner of the person it's paired with. Oh, and if someone tries copying it with Gemino, the copy becomes utterly useless, a blank notebook with no magic on it._

 

_Also, when you get a new message from Luna, your copy will sing a song only you can hear, audible from anywhere within a two mile radius. Same goes the other way around. Well, you have to program them to your magical signatures, but that's as easy as bleeding on the cover. Once they're locked in to a user, they can't easily be unlocked without causing them to lock up completely._

 

_With all that in mind, if you think there's any chance of Ginny Weasley seeing you or Luna writing in them, you should tell her in detail about the things ahead of time so she doesn't do her nut over their similarities to Riddle's diary, even though they don't think for themselves. Or at all, really. In fact, that's why I went with wizarding-style journals over Muggle-style._

 

_Oh yeah, and also I programmed it so that my own writing would be a different color on Luna's book, since I want to try this “friend” thing with her and Cedric. It's odd, but I think I might have ended up with whatever kind of mental condition Luna's got. I see a lot of myself in her._

 

_This project was an interesting challenge, too. And from things I've picked up over the summer, I gather a certain organization uses talking Patronuses for pretty much their sole method of secret communication, which is really stupid. I'm going to use the knowledge I got from this project to come up with something better for them. Patronuses are really conspicuous, difficult to cast at the best of times, and while supposedly they can't be faked, it took me about a day to sort out how to fake a Patronus message, once I put my mind to it. I haven't tested the idea, but I might, to show how it's a weakness._

 

_Oh by the way, I heard about a magical weapons seller at Hogsmeade from Draco, I want to go there on the first Hogsmeade weekend and pick up some magical throwing knives. Stow those about one's person in secure holders that resist disarming charms, and even if we lose both wands, we have backup weapons._

 

_That's all for now._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Hypatia_

 

Iliana password-protected the letter and hid it away in their trunk in case they needed it later. The twinned journals she left on her desk for now. She grabbed her Quidditch robes and left for breakfast, which didn't have many people there because most people were sleeping in. It was just her, Angelina Johnson, and Ron at the Griffindor table.

 

When they got to Quidditch practice after breakfast, Iliana began by checking the pitch for other people. Draco Malfoy was out there with some of his Slytherins. She glared at him with her arms folded. He glared back, so she got out her wand and tapped it on her other hand. Annoyed, Malfoy stood up with a sneer and lead his fellow Slytherins away. She watched them leave.

 

That out of the way, she went into the changing rooms and started getting information about other team practices from her deputy captain Angelina Johnson and Ron, who had been sent under a Disillusionment Charm and the Invisibility Cloak respectively to spy on the other teams. From there, the three of them – who had gotten there ahead of the others – started to work out tactics to use against the other teams, focusing primarily on Slytherin, since that was the first team they'd be playing and they had only six weeks until that match. Part of this involved looking in books at long lists of different ways to cheat in Quidditch and talking about way of predicting which of these the Slytherins would use, and how to counter them.

 

Another part of it involved being honest with Ron and telling him that the Slytherins wouldn't hesitate to use psychological warfare against them, and telling Ron he was going to have to ignore what they were saying and try to remember that anything coming out of a Slytherin's mouth concerning a Quidditch game was going to be a lie.

 

“I've seen you play, Ron, and you're an amazing keeper as long as your confidence is up. If you do make a mistake, don't worry; everyone does. Just try to shrug it off and keep going, and continue ignoring the Slytherins. Got it?”

 

Looking a bit sick, Ron said, “I'll try, mate.”

 

“Good. Towards that end, try to focus on the players in the air, and on what they're doing. Especially pay attention to where the Quaffle is. Think of Quidditch like a game of chess, where every move can be potentially predicted and countered, alright? Play to your strengths.”

 

“Yeah,” Angelina said. “You tune out everything else when you're playing chess, try to do the same for Quidditch.”

 

Ron nodded, still looking ill, but determined. “Think of it like chess,” he said to himself. “Think of it like chess...”

 

When the rest of the team, including the reserves showed up, the three of them went over their thoughts about how to deal with Slytherin. Fred and George looked at one another with a look that made Iliana certain they were comparing her to Wood, but she ignored it.

 

Once they were done with the tactics, they finally took their brooms out onto the pitch. Iliana cast a spell to detect the presence of people, and the spell alerted her only to three people in the stands: Luna, Neville, and Hermione. Nobody else was around, as far as she could tell. She knew Wood would've been suspicious of Luna, but she knew Luna wouldn't betray the team to the rest of Ravenclaw. Not that any of the other Ravenclaws would have been likely to believe her if she did, though. And anyway, the first match was with Slytherin, not Ravenclaw.

 

To be sure they were free of the Slytherins, she called Dobby and asked him to patrol the pitch, the stands, and the area around the pitch to keep any Slytherins out, with the exception of Javier if he decided to come. Dobby nodded, and popped away to do just that.

 

Ron seemed wary of the twins, but they weren't smirking at him or teasing him about being on the team, though this seemed to unnerve him even more than if they had. So Iliana made a snap decision.

 

“Everyone, I want to remind you all we're all on this team together, even the reserve players, and I expect everyone to treat fellow team members with respect. There is to be no bullying or teasing of team mates while we're practicing or playing, and I'd prefer if you didn't tease teammates when off the pitch, either. We'll have enough to deal with between the Slytherins and Umbridge, so we need our minds on the game as much as possible, understand?”

 

Everyone on the team muttered their understanding.

 

“Pardon, what was that?” she asked.

 

“We understand, Captain Potter!”

 

“Good. Now let's get out there and train.”

 

Iliana started out by having the chasers and beaters doing a mock game to help train both themselves and Ron train, using a mix of one primary Chaser and a reserve Chaser on each side of the mock game, the same for the Beaters. It was weird seeing the twins not working together, but this would be good for everyone; it would train the reserves, and give the primaries experience with the reserves if that ever needed to happen in an actual game.

 

She herself went higher up in the air at one end of the pitch to train Ginny for her position as reserve Seeker. They were all on spare school brooms from the batch the Potters had donated to the school years back, so they were all on equal footing broom-wise.

 

Ron Weasley took his place as Keeper on one side, the reserve Keeper Cormac McClaggen on the other end. McClaggen was already proving to be a pain in the arse. He kept acting like he knew better than others, tried giving the others tips on playing like he was the captain, and generally being a nuisance. Five minutes into the first practice, and she was already regretting having let him onto the team.

 

As the game progressed, Ron looked focused and determined, ignoring Luna, Neville, and Hermione cheering, and just focusing on the game. His face did turn a little red at the encouragement, but he was smiling. 'Think of it like chess,' he thought. 'Think of it like chess. Really fast, up-in-the-air chess, but chess. Think of it like chess.'

 

Iliana soon realized she'd made a mistake, about ten minutes into the game when the reserve Chasers kept missing the Quaffle or throwing it too far for one of the main Chasers to catch it. After fifteen minutes of this, she blew on her whistle and called for a huddle.

 

“Okay, so this mock game thing clearly isn't working. I think I skipped a step. We're all going to practice throwing and catching the Quaffle instead.”

 

At her direction, they all got into a wide circle around the pitch, and started to toss the Quaffle around at random people in the circle. Iliana raised the Quaffle with one hand and threw it hard to Fred, who passed to George, who passed to McClaggen, who passed it to Fay Dunbar, who passed it to Ron, who almost dropped it, but managed to save it with the tips of his fingers before passing it on to Dean Thomas.

 

Then it went to Demelza Robins, to Ginny, to Iliana, to Peakes, to Coote, to Ron again, who didn't so much catch it as bat it through the air at McClaggen, who had to duck to avoid getting hit in the face, but he leaned backwards and caught it upside-down before righting himself and tossing it at Ginny.

 

“Weasley,” McClaggen said, “you have to catch it and then throw it, not hit it.”

 

“McClaggen, I am the Captain, thank you very much. Ron's move worked well, it's a good instinct for a Keeper to hit things if they don't think they can catch it in time, and anyway, you caught it.”

 

“Just barely,” McClaggen said.

 

“Be that as it may, stop trying to play the Captain, McClaggen; _I'm_ the captain. You're not even the deputy Captain. Now let's get back to what we were doing. Ginny?”

 

Ginny tossed the ball to Ron, who caught it easily. He was so surprised he threw it a bit wide at Angelina, who had to surge upward to get it, but caught it and passed it on to Alicia Spinnet.

 

When Iliana next got it, she tossed it to Ron again. She was glad to see that as long a McClaggen kept his mouth shut, Ron was focusing on following the ball with his eyes. The longer they played the game of catch, the less often Ron messed up.

 

Once they got to a point where they could all catch the ball and throw it again without messing up very often, Iliana said, “Just a little faster now,” and the game sped up, people taking less time to decide who to toss it to. Ron dropped it once, but flew down and caught it before it landed, his face red, and tossed it to Coote. Coote tossed it to Ginny, who tossed it to George, who tossed it to Ron again, who batted it at Iliana this time. She caught it one-handed and chucked it at McClaggen, who threw it to George again.

 

George passed to Angelina; she reverse-passed to Iliana, who had not been expecting it, but caught it in the very tips of her fingers and passed it quickly to Ron. He fumbled it with his hands and it went behind him, but in an impressive move, he dipped forward, hitting the Quaffle with the straw-end of his broom, where it hit Ginny on the head. She shouted “OUCH!” but caught it as it bounced off her head into the air and chucked it back at Ron, who kicked it right into Fred's hands.

 

They sped up again, and Ron wasn't the only one to fumble or mess up this time around. There were a lot of near misses, a lot more people hitting the ball instead of catching it, and McClaggen missed the ball by inches once and went soaring after it. Ron snorted with repressed laughter at this. Iliana gave him a warning glare; the rule about not bullying teammates applied to him as well. He had the good grace to look abashed.

 

McClaggen threw it at Dean, and they continued going at a fast clip. After a few more near misses, Coote kicked the Quaffle hard, which hit Demelza Robins in the nose, making it bleed.

 

“Here, take this,' Fred told her, handing her something small and purple from out of his pocket, “it'll clear it up in no time.”

 

“Hold it! Don't take that, Demelza. Fred, what did you give her?”

 

“The antidote for Nosebleed Nougat.”

 

“Are you _sure_? I've seen your Skiving Snackboxes, they all look the same to me.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Fred took the sweet from Demelza and looked at it. Then he turned pale.

 

“So what is it actually?” Iliana asked.

 

“Er... Blood Blisterpod.”

 

“Right. That's it, Fred, George: I'm banning your Skiving Snackboxes while we're on the pitch. Leave them in your dorm in the future. And I want to run those sweets of yours past Professor Snape at some point to see how safe they are.”

 

Fred paled at her mention of Snape, and opened his mouth to object. She glared at him and mouthed 'Investor,' while pointing at herself. He looked slightly ill, but nodded. That settled, Iliana soared over to Demelza and pointed her wand at Demelza's nose. “ _Episkey_ ,” she said, fixing the nosebleed at once.

 

“Thanks, Iliana.”

 

“You're welcome. And in the future, don't even think about take anything from someone else for something medical unless they're a trained Healer. And avoid taking anything from the twins at any time, just on general principle.”

 

They kept going with the game of catch for twenty more minutes before Iliana was satisfied. They'd start with this again next time, keep people in practice. But for now, they went back to her previous idea of a mock game while she trained Ginny in the Seeker position.

 

The rest of the training session was a mixed bag. Iliana had to yell at McClaggen half a dozen different times in one hour for one unsufferable thing or another. Ron only missed three goals in the mock game, and some of his saves were absolutely amazing.

 

When they came out of the locker rooms after morning practice, Luna was waiting for Iliana. Luna asked her about hanging out after lunch, but Iliana had a second practice session scheduled after lunch because of the detentions slowing things down. That one would only last until 4 pm, though, which appeased Luna.

 

Luna ended up eating lunch with Iliana. Then after the second practice, Iliana got changed into a dress and the two girls went to the Room of Requirement with help from the Marauder's Map, deciding to call Dobby for dinner in the room so they could avoid Umbridge's injunction against public displays of affection and not have to walk around so much.

 

They spent a couple hours just cuddling and talking together before ordering dinner from Dobby. Though they tried to avoid the subject of Umbridge, it eventually came up anyway.

 

“So that horrid woman has started inspecting every single one of Sirius's classes, I heard,” Luna said.

 

“Yes, he told me that himself. She's doing the same with Trelawney, as well.”

 

“I wonder how she does that and teaches her own classes at the same time?”

 

Iliana shrugged. “No idea.”

 

“I heard Al tried to help Trelawney out the first time she got inspected. Which is odd. I thought Al didn't like Trelawney?”

 

“He doesn't like her as a teacher, but he prefers her to Umbridge. And when Trelawney and Alastair lock horns, she's the one with all the power. Not the case with Umbridge. Even Grubbly-Plank doesn't want to mess with her.”

 

“Ah, I understand. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Though that's not really accurate. It should be 'The enemy of my enemy is my ally.'”

 

Iliana nodded.

 

“In the last Defense class I had, Umbridge started talking to him about her own syllabus,” Luna added. “Said he should use it instead, since he was putting the students at risk. But I'm even more sure I'm right that Fudge thinks Dumbledore is trying to train up his own army.”

 

“That's silly. Training students to be soldiers. That's more like something Voldemort would do.”

 

“Iliana, didn't you say your parents were in that Order of the Phoenix thing?”

 

“Er, yeah. Why?”

 

“Well... I looked them up, and given the year they were in school together, and the year you were born, and they year they died, they were both 21 when they died. If they spent all seven years in school, they were likely 18 when they joined the Order.”

 

Iliana stared at Luna, aghast. Then she calmed down. “Okay, that's a good point. But there was a war on, and they were Griffindors. Very talented Griffindors as well. That doesn't mean Dumbledore was deliberately training soldiers!”

 

“I didn't say he was. Just pointing out that anyone who knew about that kind of thing might decide to use that fact to justify thinking Dumbledore was training his own army.”

 

Iliana tried to push this idea out of her mind, but it kept nagging her for the rest of their time together, making it hard to focus on Luna. Luna was patient with her, though. Even so, a couple hours before curfew, they decided to retire early.

 

“Oh before I forget, Luna, I have something for you. Dobby!”

 

Dobby appeared. “Miss is calling Dobby?”

 

“Yes, Dobby. Could you please retrieve the two notebooks on the desk in my room and bring them here, please. They're black leather, and have our names on them.”

 

He nodded and popped away. Less than a minute later, he had returned, handing her the books.

 

“Thank you, Dobby. That's all for now.”

 

He nodded again and disappeared.

 

“Ooh, those are lovely.”

 

“Yes, they are. But better than that. Much better. Let me tell you all about them.”

 

Luna listened with growing excitement and awe as Iliana explained what they were.

 

“That's so amazing, Iliana. Hmm... did Hypatia come up with those?”

 

“Yes. Her own writing will be a different color in them as well. She said she wants to put more effort into this 'friend' thing with you and Cedric. I wonder if that means she'll be making one for Cedric?”

 

[Damn, that's a good idea. I think I can tie it into the existing pair with a little work... hmm...]

 

“I guess she hadn't thought of that, but she's working on the details now.”

 

“I'm glad. She needs more friends. And more practice with friends.”

 

“That she does.”

 

Luna took her half of the pair of notebooks and pricked her finger, letting a drop of blood fall to the cover. It glowed white for a moment, devouring the droplet. Iliana did the same for her own, next.

 

“Now they're locked into our magical signatures,” Iliana said. “Let's test it.”

 

Iliana got hers out and wrote “Testing, testing, one two.” A moment later, Luna's head perked up at a sound only she could hear, and the words appeared in her notebook, in black ink. She wrote something down in response. It was in black ink too, but the book changed it blue.

 

There was a tinkling musical tone in Iliana's head as the words appeared in her notebook. Luna had written, “What does that mean?”

 

Aloud, Iliana said, “It's something Muggles say to make sure microphones work. Er, a microphone is a device to pick up sound and either record it, amplify it, or both.”

 

“Oh, so like a Howler?”

 

“Well, more like the Sonorous charm, but if recorded, it's like... like a Howler, but usually at the same volume as was recorded. Or like the sound coming from a two-way mirror.”

 

“I don't know what those are, either.”

 

“They're a kind of magic mirror, allows for two-way communication between two people. I have one, and Sirius has the other one that's paired to it. I wanted a set to use with you, but apparently it's something Sirius invented, and thanks to Azkaban, he hasn't been able to remember how he did it. Although... Hypatia could probably analyze it and recreate it.”

 

[Probably some variation on the Protean Charm, I'm guessing,] Hypatia said. [Actually now I think about it, that might have been easier than the Protean journals. But oh well, the journals record the words and store them for later reading, which the mirrors don't do. Although... hmm... I wonder if I could modify the charm to pick up audio and transmit it, while also turning speech to text? Though that might require a whole other set of runic equations to--- oh duh! The Map! The Marauder's Map can understand spoken language if you put your wand on it when you speak! And then the visual aspect... maybe a mirror built into the inside of one of the covers. Yes, yes... I like that...]

 

And with that, Hypatia was off into the back of their shared mind to work on a new project. Iliana giggled, then had to explain why to Luna. When she did, Luna giggled as well.

 

“Well if Hypatia needs to borrow my notebook to improve it later, let me know, and I'll gladly let her,” Luna said.

 

Iliana grinned. “That I will, Luna.”

 

 

 

Endnotes: Please note, all these new spells were made with the 'help' of Google Translate.

 

_Altum somnum_ = Latin for “deep sleep.”

 

_Princeps venustus_ = Latin for “prince charming.” (The counter-charm for Altum Somnum)

 

_Allucinatus tumultum_ = Allucinatus is the origin of the word “hallucinate” and in Latin it means “to have illusions.” (Thank etymonline for that knowledge!) “Tumultum” is Latin for “noise.” So together, “To have illusions (of) noise.”

 

_Tumultum quietus_ = Rowlingized Latin for “Quiet (the) noise.”

 

_Cantabo '(song)'_ = Singing Spell. “Cantabo” is Latin for “sing.”

 

_Normalis loquela_ = Latin for “Normal speech.” This spell is effective for countering several spells that affect human speech.

 

_E_ _t cessabit_ = Latin for “be calm.”

 

If anyone has ideas for spells for any of the Potters or other characters like Hermione to create, let me know in a private message or comment. Oh, and what song should Snape be made to sing? Bear in mind it has to be a song Fred and George – wizard-raised wizards – could reasonably be expected to know already.


	9. Unofficial Self-Defense Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Hogsmeade trip. Luna and Iliana go on a date while at Hogsmeade. Sirius's inspections don't go well and he gets sacked, Umbridge replaces him with a useless teacher. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and the Potters discuss an unofficial self-defense club. (Note: this chapter has some words with accents on them, I don't know if they'll show up properly or not.)

“ **The Many Faces Go To War: Chapter 9”**

By = Fayanora

 

**Chapter Nine: Unofficial Self-Defense Club**

 

Notes: Started putting dates on these chapters where possible, it helps me keep track of where I am in the story. (Something I figured out when writing my original fiction.) Dates are provided by HP Lexicon's Order of the Phoenix calendar.

 

FORMATTING FOR INTERNAL VOICES = 'Single quotes with no italics' will be Adira/Addy unless someone is quoting something, ~Text in tildes~ will be Chandra, (Parentheses for Al,) [Brackets will be Hypatia], % Percentage symbols for Iliana %, # Pound signs for Mother/Avani, # * Asterisks for Zoey, * and {curly brackets for Tier.} Apologies for any confusion this may cause.

 

Text in _'Italics and single quotes'_ is Parseltongue.

 

J. K. Rowling owns this sandbox, I'm only playing in it.

 

This chapter may contain some quotations from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

 

***FAYANORA***

 

September 22nd – 28th, 1995

 

Making up for lost time, there was another Quidditch practice the next day, a Sunday. But Iliana only made them practice during the morning, giving the team the rest of the afternoon off.

 

Adira was glad to hear from Cedric and Luna later that they hadn't gotten any more detentions from Umbridge. “Honestly,” Cedric had said, “that time in the Room for all those hours got really old pretty fast for me. It may have been a more effective deterrent than the quill.”

 

Luna, for her part, didn't want to risk the figures somehow failing or being found out somehow. Especially after Iliana told her that Hypatia had said the figures can't cast magic of their own, even with a real wand in their hand. So all it would take to expose them is for Umbridge to tell the figure to heal itself with its wand, to expose it wasn't real. That would be bad, if it happened before they could get past the compulsion charm she'd put on the thing. So she didn't want to risk any more detentions, to which Adira and the others all agreed, including Cedric.

 

Of course, part of preventing this was that they all had to appear suitably defeated to Umbridge. If they looked defiant, or too happy, she might work extra hard to goad them into doing something detention-worthy, and they couldn't have that. Luckily, she seemed to be satisfied with their performances in class. Hermione noticed their attitudes and asked them about it later. Adira only said the detentions were “truly horrible” and she didn't want to risk any more of them. Voldemort would come out in the open eventually, there wasn't anything to be gained by openly defying Umbridge.

 

“Interesting wording, that use of 'openly,'” Hermione said when she and Adira were taking a break from homework one night. She cast some privacy spells and continued, “Do you have something to tell me? Have you found a way to secretly defy her?”

 

“Um... well, kinda. Cedric and Luna and I have managed to find some time to meet up together, and I've been teaching them some spells Hypatia invented.”

 

“Hypatia invented some new spells?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you didn't teach them to me?”

 

“Er... no. But we didn't leave you out deliberately. I don't know when Cedric can meet with us next, but I can ask him. Hmm... Cho's been giving me and Iliana looks like she's jealous Cedric might be interested in me instead of her, so I'll have Al ask him instead.”

 

“Where have you been meeting?”

 

“The Room of Requirement.”

 

“Oh, right. That makes sense. So it's just you, Cedric, and Luna so far?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She thought about this a moment. “Hmm... yes, I can see where that would be defying her. She's been giving Sirius a hard time lately. The last class we had with him, she was trying to get him to teach from a book by some guy named Wilbert Slinkhard.”

 

“Yeah, Luna reckons Sirius will be the first teacher to get the sack from Umbridge. And that his replacement will be some duffer who's in her pocket.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I agree. I see now why Luna is in Ravenclaw. A lot of the things she says sound daft, but she's clever, I'll give her that.”

 

“Yeah. So, I'll ask Cedric about meeting some time, okay?”

 

“Thank you, Adira.”

 

“You're welcome.”

 

“By the way... if Sirius really does either cave to her pressure or get the sack, and we're still doing those meetings by then, we should go recruiting other people. Because if that happens, Defense is going to become a joke, and nobody will pass it. I got a copy of that Slinkhard book from the library out of curiosity, and the thing is a bad joke. Mr. Slinkhard's entire defense strategy is to run and hide, there's nothing in the book about fighting back if that isn't an option, and he's very dismissive of any kind of offensive magic, even simple jinxes. With that book on the syllabus, the class would be worse than useless.”

 

“Well let's hope Sirius can hold out until Umbridge gets booted.”

 

“I wouldn't hold my breath. Fudge's smear campaign against you, Cedric, and Dumbledore was a lot more effective than I would have thought possible. Though I guess Cedric is still a student, which means he can't be out there telling the truth. And Skeeter had you pegged as a mad delinquent last year, and it took Fudge less than an hour to decide you'd Confunded Cedric. So I guess I shouldn't be as surprised as I am.”

 

“Yes, the astonishing and terrifying power of paranoia.”

 

She nodded. “Yes. She's even got Percy Weasley convinced, and I thought for sure he'd be on your side, with all you've done to help him with his family.”

 

“Ah, yes. That's uh, that's gratitude for you.”

 

Hermione nodded absently. “But you know, it's weird. Some of his wording felt strange, in those quotes in the paper. One quote even had me half convinced he'd read George Orwell and was trying to send a subtle message.”

 

“That's an interesting interpretation. If true, it would suggest he's undercover for some reason.”

 

“Really? I was thinking maybe he was having second thoughts.”

 

“Er... well I guess we won't know unless he tells us. But uh... either way, second thoughts or undercover, what would you do if it was true? I'm not sure what I'd do.”

 

Hermione paused to think a moment before responding. “Well, I suppose either way, I'd watch the situation for more data and work on the problem more later. It's not like he'd tell us if he was undercover.”

 

“You wouldn't tell the Weasleys? They're furious with him right now, and Molly is really sad about it. Wouldn't telling them, in that situation, be best? You know, to ease their minds?”

 

She shook her head. “No. His father works at the Ministry. If he were undercover, and Mr. Weasley knew for sure... well okay, I guess Mr. Weasley could pretend, he's in the Order after all. And Mrs. Weasley almost never leaves the house. But Umbridge might get suspicious if the Weasley kids acted unusually for knowing that. I mean, he's Fudge's personal assistant. What if Fudge and Percy came here to the school for some reason, and the Weasleys saw him? Fudge and Umbridge would expect them to be angry or sad with him still. Or both.”

 

“Wouldn't that be true if we knew he was undercover and ran into him, too?”

 

“Hmm... I doubt it. As far as she knows, we didn't know him as well. Older brother, known for being a stickler for rules, Prefect and head boy, was only here with us for three years before leaving. I don't know about Fudge, but Umbridge would think if we knew Percy, either we'd be good little Ministry-loving toadies like him, or else he'd have been obviously corrupted by our lawless influence, and never would have gotten that job.”

 

“So if you knew Percy was secretly under cover for the Order to keep an eye on Fudge, maybe protect him from being Imperiused by Death Eaters, you wouldn't tell anybody about it?”

 

“No. Maybe you, Addy, but... but not...” Hermione turned to look narrow-eyed at Adira, who pretended she hadn't noticed this. “You know something, don't you?”

 

“What? Me? No, don't be silly. It's all hypothetical.”

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Adira even more. Adira was pretending to do homework, but was staring at her open Potions book, on the edge of her seat, figuratively speaking.

 

“Adira Lily Potter, are you keeping secrets from me?”

 

“Of course not!”

 

“You are! You... this wasn't hypothetical, was it? Percy really is a spy for the Order, isn't he?”

 

Adira sighed. “Yeah, you're right. Which is why I'm glad you wouldn't tell the Weasleys. Percy is--”

 

“DON'T TELL ME! Oh my god, oh my god, that was just hypothetical! I didn't think... no, oh damn, now I know that, and that's such a burden of pressure. I'll never be able to act normally around Mrs. Weasley again! Oh why did you tell me that? Why??”

 

“I'm sorry! But it's been eating me since I found out. I hate not being able to tell the Weasleys. I didn't want to tell you, either, because I thought you might tell them. But you started getting suspicious of his quotes, and you brought it up, and I thought... sound her out, see if she's safe to tell. Which it sounds like you are. Or you were, until you started freaking out.”

 

Hermione was flapping her hands anxiously. “Oh no, oh no oh no oh no...”

 

“Hermione, relax. If you really think you can't handle keeping the secret from the Weasleys, I could Obliviate the memory of it for you. I know how to do it.”

 

“You do? How could you know unless--” she gasped. “You've done it before?”

 

“Not to you. Never to you. I've only done it once to _anyone_ , and that was Filch. I only did it after he caught Luna and me – er, Iliana did it after he caught Luna and Iliana – past curfew on the night of one of Umbridge's detentions, and of course she never gives us a note excusing us, nor escorts us herself. Which, now that I think of it, is really strange, seems a bit out of character for her...” As Adira spoke, her hair color kept shifting back and forth between black and red.

 

“You modified someone's memory, though!”

 

“Yes, I did. Well, Iliana did, but I agreed with her. If we hadn't, Iliana and Luna would have gotten into more trouble, and I'm sure Umbridge would have found out and given us more detention, and I couldn't let that happen to Luna, I just couldn't. So yeah, I Stunned him and his cat, and modified both their memories. Which I guess means I've done it twice, technically.” Her hair was fully red now, her eyes hazel, but still otherwise looking like Adira.

 

“Well don't you dare do that to me, Adira! Not ever! Promise me!”

 

“I... well of course I – we – wouldn't do that, Hermione! Not without your consent, anyway.”

 

She crossed her arms, looking very dangerous. “Oh, but Filch is alright, is he?”

 

Adira paled, fully herself again. “Oh shit. This is one of those times where we thoughtlessly did something messed up, like we were doing to Draco and his bookends, isn't it?”

 

Hermione blinked at her. “'Draco'? Since when have--- you know what, never mind, I forgot about Hypatia for a moment. But yes, you're right, you messed up. Nobody should ever mess with someone's memories.” Hermione shuddered as she said it.

 

“Muggles get Obliviated all the time. I admit they went way overboard on Mr. Roberts last year at the campsite, but otherwise I doubt anyone gets it done often enough to be harmful.”

 

“That's not the point! My mind is important to me! I had nightmares for _months_ after Lockhart nearly made us 'tragically lose our minds'!”

 

Adira took Hermione's hand in both of hers. “I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't know. I promise I'll never Obliviate someone ever again. With the exception of Death Eaters, if it becomes necessary at some point.”

 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but sighed and nodded. “Okay, that's an acceptable exception. Of course now I'll probably have more nightmares that you won't keep your promise, or that you've promised before and broken it and I never knew, or something.”

 

“I wouldn't Obliviate you without your consent. I don't even know what could possibly motivate me to Obliviate you without your consent. Filch was a heat-of-the-moment, snap decision. But yeah, maybe I could have talked him down, or asked him to take us to McGonagall so I could explain.”

 

“Right. Well think of that the next time something like that happens.”

 

“I will. It hurts seeing you not trust me.”

 

“Good.” Hermione sat back down again with a sigh.

 

“You'll tell me if you have those nightmares, right? And more importantly, if you _don't_ have them, right?”

 

“I... yes, I will.”

 

“Good. Now maybe you should see a Mind Healer. Now that I think of it, you and Ron and I should all have seen Healer Young after the Chamber of Secrets debacle.”

 

“I _did_ see one. A different one than you did. I had to. I was having nightmares of being petrified for most of the year anyway, even before the whole Chamber business. And then there was the troll incident the year before that, and the dementors and Sirius in our third year.”

 

“But?”

 

“But I'll owl my parents about seeing her again, if I have more nightmares. Though between Umbridge and Voldemort, maybe I should see her again anyway.”

 

“Maybe hold off on that until it becomes really necessary. Umbridge might find out and use it against you.”

 

“Oh god, she's just the sort that would do that, too. Right. Only if I have more nightmares, then.”

 

“Good. And again, I'm sorry.”

 

“Please don't mention it again. No really, truly don't mention it again.”

 

“Mention what?” she asked with a grin. Hermione rolled her eyes.

 

~

October 1st, 1995

 

Sirius wasn't at all cooperating with Umbridge, even after she put him on probation on the 27th of September. He knew he didn't really need the job, and he had known he'd be out of it before the year was over anyway one way or another, so while he did try hard to keep the Potters from going nuclear in his class, he wasn't cooperating at all, otherwise. He was teaching dueling magic, essentially, and getting into a lot of arguments about it with Umbridge. Hypatia was working overtime trying to keep them calm in his classes now, as the old toad kept writing down more and more nasty things on her clipboard about him, and Adira only got through each one without more detentions by concentrating on the unofficial self-defense club she was in with Cedric and Luna.

 

Thus, they felt very lucky that they got through three weeks like that without any more detentions. When they weren't training for Quidditch, they were meeting with Cedric and Luna. Luna talked about adding more members, and Iliana agreed, so a week before their first Hogsmeade trip, Iliana brought Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville into the group. Neville was especially keen to learn defense, and his new wand was making him by far the best caster of the lot of them. It took him longer to memorize the wand movements and incantations, but once he got those down he was able to cast some pretty powerful magic. In one meeting, he cast a Sleeping Beauty Stunner so strong that Iliana had to overpower the counter-charm by double to lift it from Hermione.

 

On Tuesday, October 1st, Adira woke up to find both of the Protean journals on their desk. How Hypatia had gotten Luna's copy, she didn't know. But she looked inside and found a mirror on the inside cover of the book. There was a note stuffed into the journal as well, which read simply “You're welcome. - H.” Clearly, Hypatia had added a two-way mirror to the Protean journals. And judging by the sloppiness of Hypatia's writing, she'd likely been exhausted when she'd written the note.

 

“Thank you, Hypatia,” she said, tucking Luna's copy into her pocket for later.

 

It took Adira a while to figure out how to get the notebook back to Luna. She couldn't just give it to her at breakfast or lunch without rousing Umbridge's suspicions. So she went to Padma Patil in the corridor and asked her for Luna's schedule for the day.

 

“I dunno, Adira, I'm a Prefect, not a teacher. Ask Ginny, she has several classes with the Ravenclaws.”

 

“Oh. Thanks, Padma.”

 

At lunch, then, Adira sat next to Ginny.

 

“Do you have any classes with Luna this afternoon?”

 

“One, yeah. Why, Addy?”

 

“I have to return something to her. Er... it's a Protean journal.”

 

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “You want me to give Luna a journal?”

 

“It's not a dark artifact, it's just got Protean charms on it among other things. Write in one, the writing shows up in the other. I added a two-way mirror to it as well.”

 

“You made a two-way mirror? So you reverse engineered the one Sirius gave you?”

 

[Yes,] Hypatia said.

 

“Yes,” Adira relayed.

 

“Alright, well if you made it, Addy, I trust you.”

 

“Great, thanks.” Addy said, handing the notebook to Ginny. She carefully looked at it when it was between her and Adira, and thus out of Umbridge's sight.

 

“It uses parchment instead of Muggle paper, like... like the other one did. Are you sure it won't talk back to me?”

 

“The only way anything will appear in there is if Luna or I write in it.”

 

“Right. Okay, I'll give it to her this afternoon,” she said, slipping it into her pocket. “But you'll owe me for this. I haven't used any kind of notebooks or journals since... since after my first year.”

 

“Sorry about---”

 

“Don't apologize. There's no need.” Ginny smiled at her.

 

“Right. Thanks again.”

 

Ginny nodded. “So, you and Luna going to Hogsmeade this weekend? Er, Iliana and Luna, I mean.”

 

“Yes, they are.”

 

“You want any suggestions what to do?”

 

Adira looked up at Ginny with confusion. Ginny shrugged. “I've been dating Michael Corner. I met him at the Yule Ball.”

 

“Ah. They were just gonna wander around town, see what it has.”

 

“Well, they could always go to Madam Puddifoot's. It's the most popular spot for couples in town. Michael and I are going there on Saturday.”

 

Iliana shrugged, their form shifting to hers. “Oh, well that'll be better than talking in third person all the time. Anyway, Luna doesn't like Madam Puddifoot's, she told me that on our first ever date. She said it's too cramped, too many other couples.”

 

“I guess that's a good point. But on the other hand, it could be good to remind people you two are together. After the Yule Ball, and then again after it became common knowledge you two were an item, most people bullied Luna less. And with the Prophet telling everyone you're a mad criminal, well... it might help. It's hard to tell, she doesn't talk about it, but I think the bullying incidents are increasing again. They can't get into her trunk now, so I think they've been doing... other stuff.”

 

“Thanks, Ginny. I'll ask her about it. She usually tells me these things when I ask.”

 

“I'm glad for that. I wish I could do more for her myself. But she has you, and you make her happy.”

 

“I do?”

 

“Yes. Luna's been more happy since starting to date you than she ever had been before. Those detentions with Umbridge notwithstanding.”

 

Iliana nodded, and went back to her lunch with a smile and a blush.

 

~

October 5th, 1995

 

After several days of being almost exclusively Adira, Iliana woke up on Saturday morning early and excited for the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. A chance to get away from Umbridge and spend some time with Luna outside the castle? Why yes, please, she wanted that very much. So much so she rushed her shower – not bothering to wash her hair this time – threw on a one-piece dress and a hoodie because of the cool weather, and was done eating before Luna even arrived for breakfast, and so Iliana sat next to Luna and talked with her while she ate. Umbridge didn't look pleased about it, but it was a weekend and they weren't disturbing anyone or engaging in public displays of affection, so all they got from Umbridge was a lot of glares and suspicious looks.

 

Iliana tried not to look guilty as they approached Filch later, and mostly succeeded. Filch didn't notice anything weird, at least. Neither did Luna, or if she did she hadn't said anything about it.

 

Casting Muffliato and other privacy spells first, including a spell Iliana had learned for detecting animagi just in case, the two girls talked all the way down to town.

 

“So, Iliana, I was thinking about our little unofficial club, again.”

 

“Oh? What about it?”

 

“Well, after you told me Thursday night about Sirius's latest fight with Umbridge, I wouldn't be surprised if he's sacked by Monday. And then we'll have someone teaching from that horrid Slinkhard book.”

 

“Ah, yes. I agree. I spoke with Sirius the next day, and he also reckons he's about to be sacked. He's already begun packing his things. I tried to convince him not to, but he wants to be ready when it happens.”

 

“Yes, I'm not surprised. Which is why I think we should recruit more people to the club at some point soon. Everyone is going to be affected if Sirius is replaced by someone in Umbridge's pocket.”

 

“Yeah, but most people think I'm crazy. If they didn't before Rita Skeeter, they sure do now.”

 

“True. But you're a metamorphmagus. They don't have to know you're there.”

 

Iliana cocked her head in the way that meant she was listening to one of the others sharing headspace with her. Luna looked at her, waiting.

 

“Hypatia says that if Umbridge finds out what we're doing, and finds out we're expanding, that she'll shut it down and everyone involved will be expelled. So we should keep it a secret. She's going to think some more about it for now.”

 

“Well yes, that's obvious,” Luna said, confused.

 

“What I think she means is that she's thinking of ways to minimize the damage if the secret gets out. Maybe even prevent people from talking about it.”

 

“Oh. Alright, then. That makes sense.”

 

The two girls dropped the privacy spells and began talking about other things as they got closer to the village. Mostly discussing what they were going to do all day long. One of the first things they agreed on was to avoid the big hill they'd gone to during their first date, so Umbridge wouldn't have any chance of finding out and declaring the place off limits. And because the last time they'd gone there, they'd fallen asleep.

 

By the time they entered the village, they had plans. They started out by wandering around the high street to window shop, going into the book store for a while, then looking around the inside of the wizarding equipment shop, Dervish and Banges. They also ducked into McHavelock's Wizarding Headgear and had a fun hour trying on the various hats and wigs. Iliana quite liked the look of Luna in a rainbow-colored wig that glowed in the dark, and they laughed as Iliana sported a lime green bowler hat and did an unflattering impression of Minister Fudge talking about cooking goblins in pies.

 

After that, they stopped by an art supply store for Luna to get a few things. The Room of Requierment would make a great art studio for Luna, and she could hide her art in her trunk now. Or, well, there probably wasn't a lot of room there, but she could have Iliana hold it in their trunk instead.

 

When they were finished there, they stopped by Scrivenshaft's for some quills, then Honeyduke's before going to The Three Broomsticks for lunch.

 

As always, The Three Broomsticks was crowded and noisy. When Luna and Iliana came in, they spotted Hermione, Ron, and Neville at a table together, and decided to join their friends.

 

“I thought for sure you two would be going somewhere more private,” Hermione said. “Like Madam Puddifoot's or Brews and Stews Cafe.”

 

“Luna doesn't like Puddifoot's. I've never been there, so I wouldn't know myself, but from what she's said, I doubt I'd like it either.”

 

“But why sit with us?”

 

“It's not like there's anywhere else for us to go, Hermione. This table was the best option.”

 

“Oh. Well, let me get your orders for you, anyway.”

 

“Sure,” Iliana said. “A butterbeer for me.”

 

“Gilly water for me,” Luna said.

 

“Grab a menu, too, Hermione? We're hungry.”

 

Hermione nodded and went up to the front to wait for Madam Rosmerta or one of her employees to have time to help her. As she did that, the others talked.

 

“So, what'd you lot do on your date so far?” Ron asked in a gently teasing tone.

 

“Nothing much. Popped into a few stores, got a few things.”

 

“Iliana made a couple very obvious attempts to get me distracted so she could get me something for Christmas, and I very politely let her think she'd been subtle about it.”

 

Ignoring Ron's reaction to that, Iliana said, “And what about you lot? Neville?”

 

Neville shrugged. “This and that. Nothing too interesting.”

 

“Neville's been leading me along while he followed Hannah Abbott around the village. Not all the time, and she hasn't caught on yet, but he's got the hots for her, don't you, Nev?”

 

Neville just blushed and looked down at his bottle of butterbeer.

 

“Well she's quite pretty,” Luna said. “And quite nice. I've never once heard her call me Loony, and she's always been kind to me when we've met. She helped me find my shoes, once.”

 

“Hear that, Nev? Even Luna thinks you've got good taste,” Ron said.

 

Hermione came back, then, with a menu in one hand. One of the other employees of the pub, a plain man Iliana didn't recognize, followed behind Hermione and set a butterbeer and gilly water down in front of them. “I'll be back in ten minutes to take your order,” he said, and left.

 

“They're really busy today, aren't they?” Iliana said.

 

“It's that toad, Umbridge,” Ron said. “Everyone wants to get away from her, so even the students that normally would stay behind because the novelty's worn off have taken their chance to get out from under her pouchy stare.”

 

“Well at least with it this busy, we can talk about whatever and not be overheard.”

 

“Yeah, except then we'd have to shout.”

 

Iliana got her wand out, pointed it straight up in the air, and made a conical spiraling motion with it, saying, “ _Kónos siopís_.”

 

Immediately, the noise of all the competing voices around them fell to a sort of diffuse background noise.

 

“Wow, Iliana,” Neville said, “is that another new spell?”

 

“Yes. I call it the Cone of Silence. And it's a two-way spell, works just as well for muffling our own conversation into gibberish as it does muffling everyone else's conversations around us. So there's no chance of being overheard, now. But wait, one more thing. _L_ _abia abscondam_. ”

 

Hermione blushed and giggled at that spell's incantation. Iliana rolled her eyes at Hermione.

 

“It's just a spell to disguise our lips so nobody can lip-read what we're saying. I found it in a book of privacy spells.”

 

“What's so funny about 'labia abscondam'?” Ron asked, confused. Neville looked confused as well.

 

“Labia is also a word meaning... something that only girls have.”

 

“Only girls have lips?” Ron said, disbelieving. “Bollocks!”

 

“No, but you're in the right neighborhood,” Iliana said. Hermione and Luna burst out laughing at her comment.

 

Ron silently mouthed 'in the right neighborhood' a moment. Then he got it, and turned red. Neville got it as well, for he too turned red. Iliana burst out laughing too, now.

 

“Sorry I asked,” Ron said.

 

With Luna and Iliana busy looking at the menu, and the two boys too embarrassed to speak, Hermione sipped her butterbeer and waited. A few minutes later, the waiter returned. Judging by his expression when he did, the Cone of Silence was an area effect spell, and he'd just stepped into its range.

 

“Er, are you ready to order, yet?”

 

“Well I am,” Iliana said. “I'll have the lamb stew and another butterbeer.”

 

“Okay, lamb stew and another butterbeer. And you, Miss?”

 

“Hmm... what would you recommend?”

 

“Well, the lamb stew is pretty good, and fairly popular.”

 

“No, I don't want to eat lamb,” Luna said.

 

“In that case, I'd suggest the beefy onion stew, it's on special today. Comes with a side of garlic toast.”

 

“Yes, I'll have that, thank you. And you can refresh my gilly water when you get a chance.”

 

“Beefy onion stew and another gilly water. Any of you three want anything?”

 

The three of them all ordered the beefy onion stew as well, and everyone but Ron ordered more drinks (Ron asked for some water, looking embarrassed). Guessing he was either out of money or was being careful with what he spent money on, Iliana offered to get him another butterbeer. Reluctantly, he agreed, likely because it was relatively cheap.

 

“Okay, I'll be out in a jiffy with your orders.”

 

He wasn't kidding, either. It took him less than five minutes to return with their meals, Madam Rosmerta herself and another waitress carrying the drinks and the other stews.

 

“This stew is delicious,” Ron said between bites.

 

“Yes, it is quite lovely,” Luna said.

 

“Mine's pretty good, too,” Iliana said.

 

After that, they ate mostly in silence, except of course for the dull roar of the muffled crowd, the Cone of Silence spell still in effect. When they were done, though, they all felt quite full, and sat back, relaxed, and talked.

 

“Oh. Hy-- er, I have an idea for our unofficial defense club, if Umbridge replaces Sirius.”

 

“Yes?” Luna prompted.

 

“Well the idea is, we organize into smaller groups when we recruit people. That way, if we get to be really big as a whole group, if someone forces us to give up who's in the group, we can only rat out a few people. We won't know everyone in the group, and we can't blab about things we don't know. Each of you would be the leader of your own cell, as would Cedric and Ginny. You each bring in, say, five or six other people into your cell, but no more than that.”

 

“That sounds like resistance fighter tactics,” Hermione said. “Resistance fighters and some terrorist groups do similar things. It's an effective tactic.”

 

“I'm not good enough at this to be a group leader, Iliana,” Neville said. “And even if I was, does that mean we in the main group wouldn't meet each other anymore?”

 

“Um... I don't know. I guess we could still meet.”

 

“But doesn't that mean we could rat out the other cell leaders?” Hermione asked. “If Umbridge got one of us, she'd get the whole group.”

 

“Okay, so maybe it doesn't have to be one of us, necessarily. Or... hey wait, I have a better idea. What if I recruit new people, pretending to be one of you lot, and we all meet up still, but whenever one of the other cells meets, it's me in disguise leading the cell? No, hear me out. I... okay, Neville, I'm trusting you with this secret, but there's another one of my collective who remains secret because she's friends with... a Slytherin student, and she's afraid he'll find out she's with us. Her name is Hypatia, and she can hide certain memories from the rest of us. So if I pretended to be one of you when I recruited someone new, you wouldn't know who was in that cell. Only I would, and if I get given Veritaserum, Hypatia can hide that information somewhere it can't be retrieved, so I'm the safest person to keep the secret of who all the members are.”

 

They all sat there thinking that over a few minutes. Finally, Hermione spoke.

 

“But you'd be stretched pretty thin, wouldn't you? Or each group would have to meet on a different day and time, increasing the odds of getting caught.”

 

“Okay, then what if I pretend to be one of you when recruiting, and then I give control of the cell over to one of the recruits? They'd do their own thing, we wouldn't even know about it.”

 

“That doesn't address the issue of too many meetings, though.”

 

“Hey,” Ron said, “if these 'cells' are small, like 7 people apiece, then why not just have them divided by House? The Griffindor cell could meet in the common room or something, and so on for each other House.”

 

“Then everyone in the House would know what we were up to,” Neville pointed out.

 

“Well there are two possible meeting places we have at our disposal. The Room of Requirement, and the Chamber of Secrets. There's some other rooms down there that are clean, spacious, and inaccessible to anyone or anything but wizards and witches. I and the other girls could go down there, and---”

 

“Ha! Like Ginny would ever go down there willingly,” Ron said.

 

“Hey, it might be good for her to face the place and realize it's not this big scary thing anymore.”

 

“How does the Room of Requirement work, exactly?” Neville asked. “Would it be possible to have multiple meetings in there without any of the cells running into each other?”

 

“Oh that's really clever, Neville. We should find out. That'd be wonderful if we could!”

 

“Thanks, Hermione.”

 

“So have we agreed on anything yet?” Iliana asked.

 

“The 'cells' idea sounds good, if we can manage it without increasing the odds of getting caught. It's not against the rules, what we're planning. Not yet, anyway. But as soon as Umbridge finds out, well that's it,” Hermione said.

 

“Griffindor cell could meet in Iliana's room,” Ron suggested.

 

“Pardon me?”

 

“What? You let me in there a lot. And you could lock everything away. You could, I dunno, invent a new locking spell that keeps everyone out of your wardrobe and whatnot.”

 

“But it's not big enough for that, anyway.”

 

“What about your trunk?”

 

“None of the rooms in the trunk are big enough, either.”

 

“So? Hypatia's brilliant. Have her expand a box or something so it's big enough.”

 

Iliana cocked her head a moment, listening to Hypatia. Then she said, “Hypatia says she hasn't gotten that far in her studies, she hasn't the foggiest idea how that would be done, yet. And it would take her weeks if not months to work out how to do it.”

 

“Dobby,” Luna said.

 

“Well, love, that would settle the transportation issue, but--”

 

“I mean, Dobby might know somewhere else to go. Assuming the Room can't provide us several rooms at once, like Neville suggested.”

 

“I guess.”

 

“There's also the Shrieking Shack, mate!” Ron said.

 

“Yes, and the entrance to that is under the whomping willow,” she pointed out.

 

“We know how to get by it, though.”

 

“I think her point, Ron, was that Umbridge would see anyone using it. The willow is visible from many rooms of the castle, after all.”

 

“Oh. Right.”

 

“I think we should test Neville's suggestion before we waste any more time arguing,” Luna said.

 

“Well said,” Iliana agreed.

 

“Yeah, and who knows? Maybe Sirius won't get sacked after all.”

 

“Sure. And tomorrow the sun will rise in the west.”

 

With nothing left to say for now, and their meals done, the five friends soon got up, lifted the privacy spells, and went about the rest of their day. They split up, Luna and Iliana walking arm in arm along the High Street.

 

“Where to now, Luna?”

 

“I'm in the mood for something quiet. I've been to all the shops I want to go to... maybe we can go back to the castle? Not inside, but maybe on a walk around the Black Lake?”

 

“You sure? Umbridge is probably still at the castle.”

 

“Hmm... good point. But I don't want to go to Lookout Point, she might have spies following us.”

 

“The lake, though... she might hassle us if we walk around the lake.”

 

Luna blinked slowly, as though thinking of something. She looked at Iliana and smiled. “I may have an idea.”

 

~

 

Luna's idea turned out to be a long walk up the road back toward the castle, and then a left turn Iliana had barely noticed in the past, and an even longer walk up a different road until they got to Hogsmeade Station. It took them over an hour to get there, though they hadn't been walking terribly fast.

 

Iliana wondered what Luna had brought them here for, until they got close to a set of piers on the lake. There were several boats on the pier, some of them recognizable as the boats the first-years travel across the lake on, while others were slightly larger than those.

 

She was about to ask Luna what was going on when a middle-aged woman stepped out of a shack by one of the piers.

 

“Hello there. We don't get many visitors over here after the first of September. Students?”

 

“Yes, we're students,” Luna said. “Daddy told me you rent boats to people. Is that correct?”

 

“Er, yes. Mostly in the summer time, though. Hogwarts gets a bit protective about not letting anyone inside its wards unless they're a student.”

 

“But as students, we could take a boat out on the lake?”

 

“Yes, you could. The wards would let you in no problem.”

 

“Isn't that a bit of a security risk?” Iliana asked.

 

“No, not at all. The wards only let _students and staff_ cross the ward line by boat. Everyone else has to use the front entrance. I understand the last fellow who tried sneaking onto Hogwarts by boat got eaten by the giant squid. Oh, not fatally. Just stored for safe keeping until the headmaster could investigate. That was way back in Headmaster Dippet's day.”

 

Iliana looked at Luna and shrugged.

 

“How much to rent a boat for the afternoon?”

 

“Just a single galleon,” the woman answered. Iliana shrugged again and handed the woman a galleon from her coin purse.

 

“Good. Now, what kind of voyage were you wanting?”

 

“Er, a romantic one. Preferably something serene.”

 

“Ah, young love. Right. Follow me, I have just the thing.”

 

It was a walk of less than five minutes to get down one of the piers to a cozy little self-paddling dinghy. It had a reclining seat built into it, taking up almost all the space inside the boat, and there was just enough room in said seat for the two girls to lay side-by-side in it.

 

“Now before you go, you should cast warming spells on yourselves, and feather-light charms in case you fall out. The boat is charmed to keep you in, but no charm is perfect, and it fails if the boat capsizes. So a feather-light charm will keep you floating easily on the water if you fall in. Then the giant squid will usually put you back in the boat if it can.”

 

“Thanks, uh... I didn't catch your name?”

 

“Miss Hanson. And I didn't catch your names, either, dearies.”

 

“I'm Iliana, and my date is Luna.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Iliana and Luna.”

 

Iliana got onto the boat first, checking its soundness, and then she helped Luna onto it.

 

Ms. Hanson told them how to control the boat with their wands, and when they had it down, they thanked her and began making it drift away from the pier.

 

“Well, Iliana and Luna, enjoy your trip on the lake,” Miss Hanson said with a wink at them as the boat left the pier.

 

“We will, Miss Hanson. Thank you.”

 

Iliana tapped the boat on the spot Ms. Hanson had shown them to make the boat surge ahead to get them out of range. She maneuvered the boat to the middle of the lake in a matter of minutes, then made it stop and stay there, peacefully floating on the water. They reclined the seat and Luna snuggled up against Iliana.

 

“You didn't tell her our surnames.”

 

“No, I did not. She hadn't noticed my scar, didn't know who I was. I wasn't about to attract her attention to that fact. And it would be weird if I gave her your surname but not mine.”

 

“I thought it might be something like that,” Luna said with a smile.

 

“This is nice, but do you mind if I put up some shade?” Iliana asked.

 

“It's October.”

 

“Yes, but sunburn is still possible on October, especially surrounded by all this water.”

 

“Ah. Alright, then.”

 

“ _Circulus umbra,_ ” Iliana cast, and a circle of shade magically appeared over their boat. It was enough shade to prevent sunburn, but still let the day feel beautiful and nice.

 

“Another new spell?”

 

“Found it in a book.”

 

“Nice.”

 

“If you like that one, you'll love this one. _Ab aliis abscondam,_ ” she cast, while waving her wand in a wide circle around them.

 

“Don't tell me, I want to figure that one out,” Luna said. “Hmm... 'ab aliis abscondam.' That's a notice-me-not spell, correct?”

 

“Indeed it is. Now we're not going to attract any attention. Well, not any attention we haven't already attracted, if anyone saw the boat coming out here to the middle of the lake. It's another one I read in a book.”

 

“Does that mean nobody can see us?”

 

“It means if they look this way, they won't notice anything. Their eyes will pass right on by. And if, for some reason, they manage to look right at us, they won't see anything but a blur.”

 

“And what about the others? Inside you, I mean.” Luna's finger tapped her twice on the forehead for emphasis.

 

“They're all hiding down in the subconscious. They're not watching. And uh, I've been working on how to hide memories of mine from them. They'll know something happened, that I was Out, but they won't know _what_ happened. Unless I tell them, which I won't if you don't want me to.”

 

Luna – grinning – shifted position so she was lying right on top of Iliana. “Good. Now that means we can practice a different sort of magic.”

 

Iliana blushed over her entire face and neck, turning as red as her hair (if not redder), and nodded, eager.

 

~

 

Hermione, Ron, and Neville were just getting to the carriages when Neville got their attention. The other two looked where he was looking, and they saw Iliana and Luna coming up towards the carriages themselves. The two girls were happier than anyone could remember seeing either of them, laughing and chasing each other like young children at play, casting spells at each other that seemed to consist of spells like Accio or the tickling jinx, though Hermione also caught the incantation of an unfamiliar spell, “ _Calidum femur_ ,” cast by Luna that made Iliana shriek with delight even as she buckled over, crossing her legs and casting it back at Luna. Hermione blushed at this and looked away.

 

“No fair! You can't dodge if I couldn't!” Iliana shouted, running after Luna, who was shrieking with laughter and running toward the carriages.

 

“ _Accio Luna Lovegood!_ ”

 

Luna stopped making forward progress, but didn't move back any. She gave up trying, and instead spun on her heel and cast something back at Iliana, who batted it aside with an easy flick of her wand, cast something else on Luna, then surged forward and grabbed her, lifting her off her feet and carrying her in a bridal carry – kicking and shouting in half-hearted protest – the rest of the way to the carriage.

 

“I see you two had fun,” Hermione said with a grin as they approached.

 

“Yes, quite a bit of fun, didn't we, Luna?”

 

Luna giggled. “You might say that. I couldn't possibly comment.”

 

“How much fun did you have?” Ron asked, grinning.

 

“None of your business, Ronald,” Iliana said.

 

“Well, it's good to see you enjoying yourselves so much for once.”

 

“More like 'enjoying each other,' right Luna?”

 

Luna blushed but nodded, smiling. Neville and Ron also blushed. Hermione just rolled her eyes.

 

“Anyway, might as well have fun now,” Iliana said, “before Umbridge makes it against the rules to have fun.”

 

“'Having fun is a frivolous waste of otherwise productive time that could be spent learning how to be boring, and will not be tolerated,'” Luna said, mimicking Umbridge's voice almost too well.

 

“'The beatings will continue until morale improves,'” Iliana replied.

 

“More like 'The beatings will improve as long as morale continues,'” Luna said. Then she paused. “Oh, I think I made myself sad.”

 

“Well, better give you a Cheering Charm. _Vos laetificet_ ,” she cast, and Luna started on one of her signature laugh attacks.

 

Iliana set Luna down on the step of the carriage. “Crud. Too powerful. _Et cessabit._ ”

 

Like the last time she'd used this spell on Luna, Luna glowed blue and stopped laughing within about 20 seconds. Hermione, who hadn't seen this spell before, went wide-eyed at the sight of this.

 

“Where'd you find that spell?”

 

“What, the calming spell?” Hermione nodded. “We invented it,” Iliana explained. “You know, a certain library-dweller, I mean.”

 

“Amazing,” Hermione said.

 

“Can we all get into the carriages before we're late?” Ron asked. “I'm getting hungry.”

 

“You're always hungry, Ron,” Iliana said, but she climbed into the carriage anyway.

 

Luna had gotten up and was petting the thestral's head. When she saw Iliana was getting into the carriage, she gave the thestral one more scratch behind what was probably its ear, and got into the carriage with the others. Soon, they were all heading back up to the castle.

 

When they got back into the Great Hall, Luna looked like she very much wanted to eat at the Griffindor table with Iliana, but glanced up at Umbridge, and sadly went over to the Ravenclaw table. At this, Iliana heard a whisper in her head from Hypatia, and she smiled. Very carefully pointing her wand at Luna in a way Umbridge wouldn't be able to see it, Iliana whispered, “ _Eímai dípla sas_ _._ ”

 

She heard a faint gasp of surprise from Luna, and knew from both it and what Hypatia had said, that the spell was making Luna feel like Iliana was sitting next to her, their sides pressed together. She held it for a few moments before putting her wand back, breaking the spell. But she'd given Luna something to keep her spirits up.

 

After dinner, she and Luna went to the Room of Requirement and she taught the spell to Luna. It would become a habit of the both of them, as long as Umbridge was there, to cast that spell at each other whenever they were both in the Great Hall together.

 

~

_October 7 h, 1995_

 

Such was Iliana's happiness from the weekend that she got through Umbridge's History of Magic class without getting a detention or attracting any attention to herself at all. She had to suppress her happiness and pretend to be downtrodden, but she still remembered how to do that from her years with the Dursleys. It helped that Hermione had apparently given up on butting heads with the woman, probably for Adira's sake. Whatever the reason, the class was the calmest Umbridge class they'd had all year.

 

After History of Magic was double Potions, which wasn't too bad anymore, ever since Snape stopped picking on them so much. He still didn't like Adira's father, but Adira didn't look so much like him anymore, and Snape got on alright with Iliana.

 

Adira, Ron, Hermione, and Neville took their usual seats in the back of class, Neville partnering Adira because Iliana could help keep Neville from exploding their cauldron. Ron was partnering Hermione, naturally, for somewhat similar reasons.

 

Snape came in with his usual dramatic flair – door slamming closed with an echoing bang, Snape's robes billowing as if in a special-effects breeze. Alastair imagined the man's hair billowing in a breeze as well and started singing internally 'Maybe he's born with it. Maybe it's Maybeline.' This made it rather difficult to concentrate on her work without laughing.

 

“You will notice,” said Snape, in his low, sneering voice, “that we have a guest with us today.”

He gestured towards the dim corner of the dungeon and Addy saw Professor Umbridge sitting there, clipboard on her knee. She glanced sideways at Neville, Ron, and Hermione. Snape versus Umbridge, this was going to be good. She silently cheered on Snape, in her head.

 

“We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; it correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend — instructions —” he waved his wand again “— on the board. Carry on.”

 

Professor Umbridge spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. Addy was very interested in hearing her question Snape; she let Hypatia listen and inform her of the results later as she was busy listening to Iliana telling her what to do for the potion, and relaying relevant advice to Neville, who she'd set to preparing the few ingredients he couldn't mess up with his clumsiness. She was glad to note he'd been getting better since she'd started partnering him. Occasional surreptitious uses of the Calming Spell Hypatia had invented helped, too, keeping Neville calm around his greatest fear.

 

“A little less salamander blood, Neville. Salamanders are fire elementals, after all.”

 

“How much less?”

 

“Hmm... maybe a milliliter less.”

 

Neville used a clean eye-dropper and took out some of the salamander blood from the flask.

 

“Is that enough?”

 

“Yeah, that should do it.” She put a stopper on the flask until she was ready to use it and checked his powdered griffin claw while he put the rest of the salamander blood away. “And this griffin claw should be ground a little finer. But it's the right weight. Just try not to lose any when re-grinding it.”

 

Addy's attention shifted for a moment; Umbridge had just got to her feet. “Ha,” she said softly, as Umbridge strode between two lines of desks towards Snape, who was bending over Dean Thomas's cauldron.

 

“Well, the class seem fairly advanced for their level,” she said briskly to Snape's back. 'Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus.”

 

Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her.

 

“Now . . . how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?” she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.

 

“Fourteen years,” Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable. Addy, watching him closely as she could without splitting her focus too much, added the salamander blood to the potion and stirred gently. Neville, beside her, was re-grinding the griffin claw with his mortar and pestle.

 

“You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?” Professor Umbridge asked Snape.

 

“Yes,” said Snape quietly.

 

“But you were unsuccessful?”

 

Snape's lip curled. “Obviously.”

 

Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard.

 

“And you have applied regularly for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?”

 

“Yes,” said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry.

 

“Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?' asked Umbridge.

 

“I suggest you ask him,” said Snape jerkily.

 

“Oh, I shall,” said Professor Umbridge, with a sweet smile.

 

“I suppose this is relevant?” Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed.

 

“Oh yes,” said Professor Umbridge, “yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' — er — backgrounds.”

 

She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked round at Addy and their eyes met for a moment. She smiled at him. His lip twitched ever so slightly. Snape came over to examine their potion.

 

“Potter seems to be a good choice of partners for you, Longbottom,” he said. “Excellent color and texture. The smell is ideal as well. I see you used slightly less salamander blood than called for in the recipe. It seems to be a good choice. If it pans out, I shall be adding that change to the recipe I put on the board, in future. Carry on.”

 

She nodded, smiling faintly as he stalked off. Neville looked at her in awe.

 

“Wow, Addy. He complimented you! He actually complimented you!”

 

“Iliana is really good at Potions, it seems.”

 

“Yes, but... wow. Wait, Addy? Why are you grinding up gorilla toenail clippings? It's not on the recipe.”

 

“I know that,” Addy said, feeling Iliana speaking instead of her. “But I made you grind less griffin claw than in the recipe, too. Griffin claw and salamander blood are magical enough that the amount in the recipe would make the potion decay too fast to be useful for long. Adding the gorilla toenail clippings has the same strengthening effect as griffin claw but counteracts some of the magic, making the potion shelf stable for as much as another six months.”

 

“But it's not on either the book _or_ the board,” Neville complained. “I know Snape's recipe on the board often contradicts the book, but you're contradicting both.”

 

“You just heard him say I did something similar with the salamander blood, Neville. Trust me on this. I know-- I mean, Iliana knows what she's doing.”

 

Sure enough, when they took their finished potion up to Snape at the end of class, he looked at the phial carefully, opened it to sniff it, then re-sealed the phial, nodding at her in that way she recognized meant 'I'd say 'good work,' but I can't be too friendly with you in view of all these people.' She gave him an understanding nod and joined the throng leaving the classroom.

 

~

 

After lunch that same day was Divination. Al made sure to be in front, he always loved to be the one to do so, and he was a genuine Seer, to boot. It didn't take him long to rethink the wisdom of that, though, for Trelawney was slamming copies of The Dream Oracle onto the tables in a fury. She threw a copy of the Oracle at Seamus and Dean, narrowly avoiding Seamus's head, and thrust the final one into Neville's chest with such force that he slipped off his pouffe.

 

“Well, carry on!” said Professor Trelawney loudly, her voice high-pitched and somewhat hysterical, “you know what to do! Or am I such a sub-standard teacher that you have never learned how to open a book?”

 

The class stared perplexedly at her, then at each other. But Al and company had a shrewd idea what was going on. As Professor Trelawney flounced back to the high-backed teachers chair, her magnified eyes full of angry tears, he leaned his head closer to Ron's and muttered, “I think she's got the results of her inspection back.”

 

“Professor?” said Parvati Patil in a hushed voice (she and Lavender had always rather admired Professor Trelawney). “Professor, is there anything — er — wrong?”

 

“Wrong!” cried Professor Trelawney in a voice throbbing with emotion. “Certainly not! I have been insulted, certainly . . . insinuations have been made against me . . . unfounded accusations leveled . . . but no, there is nothing wrong, certainly not!”

 

She took a great shuddering breath and looked away from Parvati, angry tears spilling from under her glasses.

 

“I say nothing,” she choked, “of sixteen years of devoted service . . . it has passed, apparently, unnoticed . . . but I shall not be insulted, no, I shall not!”

 

“But, Professor, who's insulting you?” asked Parvati timidly.

 

“The Establishment!” said Professor Trelawney, in a deep, dramatic, wavering voice. “Yes, those with eyes too clouded by the mundane to See as I See, to Know as I Know . . . of course, we Seers have always been feared, always persecuted . . . it is — alas — our fate.”

 

“Preach it, sista! Down with The Establishment!” Al shouted, fist in the air. Everyone stared at him in astonishment, Trelawney included. Al shrugged and ignored them, all except for Trelawney.

 

Trelawney half-smiled at him, but gulped, dabbed at her wet cheeks with the end of her shawl, then she pulled a small embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve, and blew her nose very hard with a sound like Peeves blowing a raspberry.

 

“Professor,” said Parvati, “do you mean . . . is it something Professor Umbridge — ?”

 

“Do not speak to me about that woman!” cried Professor Trelawney leaping to her feet, her beads rattling and her spectacles flashing. “Kindly continue with your work!”

 

“Yes,” Al said just loud enough for the others at his table to hear, “let us not speak of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

 

Trelawney spent the rest of the lesson striding among them, tears still leaking from behind her glasses, muttering what sounded like threats under her breath.

 

“. . . may well choose to leave . . . the indignity of it . . . on probation . . . we shall see . . . how she dares . . .”

 

After class, Ron came up to Al and said, “You're on her side? But she's a horrible old fraud!”

 

“So? Umbridge's existence is an affront to all that is good and right in the world. If a Dementor Kissed her, it either wouldn't find anything there to suck out, or it would choke to death on her pathetic excuse for a soul. Trelawney is my best friend by comparison to Umbitch.”

 

As Ron and Neville laughed at this, Al said, “Anyway, on to Ancient Runes for me. See ya!”

 

~

_October 10 th, 1995_

 

It came as a shock to nobody at all when Sirius was sacked that week, given his complete lack of cooperation with his probation. What _was_ slightly surprising was that there was already a new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts by that very  Thursday. As Luna and Hermione both thought, the new teacher was worthless. In fact, he had written the new textbook, “Defensive Magical Theory” by Wilbert Slinkhard.

 

Professor Slinkhard looked like a drowned rat even when dry. Shorter even than Umbridge, he had a limp,  pale gray mustache and thin,  pale gray hair. His watery eyes – which were a pale shade of blue that reminded Adira of the color Dudley's old jeans had gotten when she'd worn them so ragged they were barely there anymore – darted around the room as though always on the lookout for an escape route, and his robes hung off him like a circus tent.  His skin – which was wrinkled and sagging with age – looked so pale she thought he might get a sunburn from the candles in the room.

 

What was more, Professor Slinkhard's wand, which was a pale yellow  the same color as teeth stained by tobacco smoke , somehow seemed to be limp and drooping in a way that was making all the boys snicker at it with suppressed mirth. He clutched the handle of it so tightly that Adira was astonished it didn't break under his grip,  and his body was so tense she didn't need to be an empath to know that he was regarding his own students the way a young rabbit might regard a hungry tiger.

 

Even his voice reflected his timid nature, as it was so quiet that he struggled to be heard or understood at his usual volume. By the middle of Adira's first class with the man, he was using a 'sonorous' charm on his throat, and even then the people in the back had to cup their ears to hear him.  The man was so pathetic that even Peter Pettigrew looked like a great brave warrior by comparison to Professor Slinkhard.

 

His classes we re a bad joke, as predicted. He seemed too scared to do more than introduce himself and outline a few class aims, and then assigning them to read chapters from the book silently. When Hermione raised her hand to ask him a question about when they were going to do practical work in the class so as to learn the spells, he stared at her like a mouse staring at an owl and proceeded to completely ignore her for the rest of the class. After the first few other people followed Hermione's lead, he managed to get upset enough to tell them that if anyone raised their hand for anything but needing to use the loo or go to the hospital wing, he'd give them detentions... with Umbridge. That shut up the few of them who knew what that meant, though it took awhile for the others in class to give up trying to ask him anything.

 

“ Luna was right,” Hermione said later in the Griffindor common room. “This new Defense teacher is worse even than Quirrel, even before we knew he was evil. We need to speed up our plans. Have you had any more ideas?”

 

“Neville and I tried the Room last night. It can make extra doors and can divide the room up like we thought. He experimented with it for hours, and found it can also make doors go to other parts of the castle! That will help loads.”

 

“You mean we could move the entrance around at random?” Hermione asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Wow! That's amazing! Neville figured that out?”

 

“That he did. He's got a knack for knowing what to ask it, apparently.”

 

Before they could get any farther on that question, though, Addy noticed Fred and George coming her way.

 

“Can we talk with you, Addy?”

 

“More accurately, can we ask Iliana a question?”

 

“I can relay information between you and her, yes. What do you want?”

 

“Well you see, we've got a new Skiving Snackbox.”

 

“The Puking Pastille?” Addy asked, remembering with disgust several nights ago when they'd been demonstrating their new product and selling it.

 

“No, different one. Fever Fudge. Anyway, we heard from Neville that Iliana is a whiz at Potions, and since--- well, since that's the case, we wondered if you'd look over our recipe for Fever Fudge.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well, they give us these massive, pus-filled boils.”

 

“I don't see any boils,” Ron said.

 

“No, well, you wouldn't,” said Fred darkly, “they're not in a place we generally display to the public.”

 

“But they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the — ”

 

“Right, right. Let me see.”

 

They looked at Hermione and Ron in a way that spoke volumes.

 

“Fine, we'll go. Hermione, there's another table over there.”

 

Fred and George watched them leave. When they were out of range, they turned back to Adira and handed her a parchment with the recipe on it. It was very hard to read, which they'd probably done on purpose.

 

“Oh, well that's simple enough,” she felt Iliana saying with her voice. “Add essence of myrtlap at this stage. Here, I'll write down the dosage for you.”

 

When she was done scribbling down the right dosage, Fred said, “Thanks, Iliana. Any other thoughts about the recipe?”

 

She considered the page thoughtfully. “Hmm... no, this looks good as is. Just add the myrtlap essence like I suggested, and you'll be golden.”

 

“Thanks, Iliana! You're a peach.”

 

“Yeah yeah, you're welcome. Send Hermione and company back this way when you pass them, okay?”

 

The left, and soon Ron, Neville, and Hermione were back.

 

“I know you're apparently really good with potions, Iliana,” Ron said, even though their form was still Adira's, “but why are they trusting you with the recipes for their potions?”

 

“I guess they just trust us,” Adira said, getting back to work on her Transfiguration homework. “We're trustworthy people.”

 

“Hmm...” Hermione said, looking at Adira. Adira tensed up a little, but after a minute, Hermione seemed to decide she didn't want to know any more about that.

 

“What's Sirius doing now he's been sacked?” Ron asked.

 

“He's moved back into... the place he was living before. He's annoyed Umbridge sacked him, but he's glad to be away from her at last. Can't say I blame him.”

 

Adira was still working on her homework when Hermione moved her wand in a familiar upward spiral with the incantation _Kónos siopís_.

 

“Figured that one out on your own, I see,” Addy commented, as she heard other conversations around them blur into an indistinct noise.

 

“Yes, it's quite clever and useful. And I was going to ask you when we're going to meet for that unofficial defense group, now that Neville's got the Room figured out.”

 

“Well Iliana and Ron have Quidditch practice tomorrow, but I think after dinner tomorrow we could do it.”

 

“Okay. Who all is going to come?”

 

“You three, of course. Then Luna, too. I'll invite Cedric over as well.”

 

“Anyone else?”

 

“I might see what Dean and Seamus have to say about the idea.”

 

“They'll probably go for it, after the class we had with Slinkhard.”

 

“Reckon a lot of people would, but we have to keep it low profile,” Hermione reminded them. “And to that effect, I had an idea. I haven't worked out how to do it yet, but I was thinking a magical contract. It'd be simple enough; it'd set Adira up as the only person who could recruit new people. Anyone else who blabs about it would get cursed.”

 

“A cursed contract?” Neville said in horror.

 

“Nothing major,” Hermione said. “Just something that would make it quite obvious who had blabbed.”

 

“What specifically?” Addy asked.

 

“Oh, I found this fascinating curse in the library that lets you write a word on someone's forehead in pock-marks. I've been working on the arithmancy to change the word it writes to 'Sneak.' The word the curse currently spells out is rather rude.”

 

Neville paled, but Addy and Ron laughed. “That'd discourage people alright,” Addy said. “But I think a tongue-tying curse would be better. Prevent anyone from saying anything in the first place.”

 

“Yeah, but couldn't they write it down still?” Ron asked.

 

“Good point. Well, I guess we could do both. By the way, do you have the book for the curse you mentioned, Hermione?”

 

“Sure, let me go get it.”

 

She got up and hurried upstairs. Addy went back to her homework while they waited, as did the boys. A few minutes later she returned, opening the book to the right page in front of Adira and handed her a parchment with lots of maths on it.

 

“There's the curse, and my attempt to work out the arithmancy of changing it.”

 

Hypatia, without changing out of Addy's form, looked over the curse, Hermione's arithmantic breakdown of the curse, and her attempt to work out how to change it. While she was at it, Hermione also handed her the notes for the arithmancy on a magical contract like the one she'd mentioned.

 

“Pretty good. Another day or two and you'd have a pretty good contract and curse here. Just make some changes here,” she said, doing some maths on the parchment, “and here. Yes, there we go. That's the curse sorted out. But the problem is that all the names would be visible on the paper. Let's see, if I'm going to be the only one who can recruit, then I should be the only one with access to this list. Or... no, Hermione will need access, too, since she's the one making the contract.”

 

She did a bit more maths on another parchment, Neville watching in impressed fascination as she did. When she was done, she handed it to Hermione. “There you are, Hermione. Now you'll be able to make a version of the contract that only you and I will be able to activate. In anyone else's hands, unless they're signing it after activation, it will look like an arithmantic breakdown of the tickling hex. Well, you have to write out the arithmantic breakdown of that hex first of course.”

 

“Thank you Hy-- Addy.”

 

“No problem. Anything else?”

 

“Well,” Hermione said, “I had also started on a project to put a Protean charm on a fake galleon, because if the group gets big enough, we might need a way to communicate with the others to tell them when the meeting is, and where the entrance of the Room of Requirement is going to be.”

 

“A fake galleon? No no, too much chance of that getting lost or spent. You should make it a ring instead. Rings can be charmed to be invisible until the user wants to be able to see it, and they're harder to lose if you don't take them off.”

 

“But galleons have writing on them already. The serial numbers could be changed to reflect the time and date.”

 

“And location?” Hermione's face soured. “Thought not,” Addy said. “Anyway, if I choose the right font, I could make the font of the text be hard to tell apart from the ring's usual pattern. So even if someone was looking over a ring-bearer's shoulder when it was being looked at, they wouldn't be able to tell what it said from a distance. If I find the right font.”

 

“Right,” Hermione said, thinking. “You know, now that I have those ideas to work with, I could make the rings myself.”

 

“We could share the load. We don't know how many we'll need, after all. Anyway, you can make a proof of concept ring and we'll figure the rest out later if we need to. I have other projects I'm working on already anyway, so yeah, you can do most of the work if you want. But if you need help, just ask me.”

 

~

(Later that night)

 

The Hogwarts' grounds were still and dark and quiet, it being midnight. The only movement, aside from the wind and a few nocturnal animals, was something scuttling on many legs toward the Forbidden Forest. Carved with runes to make its transfiguration permanent, it was a tiny moving stone spider with a modified set of omnioculars attached to it, and it wasn't alone. With it were three others of identical build, all of them having been dropped out a window earlier in the day, hiding, until sent to head toward the forest by a remote command. Not that anyone on the grounds would see any of this, of course; they were all Disillusioned as well, with such a powerful Disillusionment Charm that they were invisible. The only sign of their passing was where they disturbed the grass and then the underbrush.

 

They existed because for as impressive as the magical monitors in the Chamber of Secrets' Command Room were, the monitors had their limitations. The area covered by the monitors was impressive, but the spells that made it possible acted as though there were fixed cameras in a grid pattern around the school and grounds. There were 'cameras' that looked both directions on this grid, but Hypatia's “omniocular spy-ders” – each of the four spy-ders showing a different view on four mirrors Hypatia had removed from Myrtle's bathroom – were mobile, which had numerous advantages.

 

Tonight was the first night these spy-ders would be spying on the acromantula nest. Hypatia was gathering intel about the acromantulas. She wasn't sure yet what she wanted to do about them. They were dangerous, of course, and given how adamant Dumbledore had been about Voldemort wanting to ally himself with werewolves, giants, and dementors, it seemed logical that he'd try to ally himself with the acromantulas, if he ever found out about them. Which, honestly, they were something of an open secret. He had to know about them by now, or he likely soon would. One of his closest followers had been on the school board for a time, after all. Even if he hadn't known of them before, he might now; Hypatia had accidentally mentioned them to Draco once. She still felt stupid for doing that.

 

Oh well. What's done is done. So maybe she could get them on her side instead, before Moldyshorts could. After all, Death Eaters were made of meat. _They_ would have no problem killing other people, so why shouldn't she?

 

The only problem with that, of course, was that the acromantulas would still be there, and still hungry. Also, feeding them might encourage them to make more of themselves. Then there was that pesky fact that the government might view directing man-eating monsters to eat her enemies as murder and put her in prison for it, even though it's what the Death Eaters would do.

 

Hypatia sighed. “Looks like extermination is the route to go, then. 'Operation Aragog' now officially renamed to 'Operation Arachnophobia.'”

 

 

 **Endnotes** : All new spells are made using Google Translate, so any errors are its fault.

 

 _Kónos siopís_ [ko-no-s so-piece] = Greek for “cone of silence.” (Yes, that's a “Get Smart” reference. I watched a lot of Nick at Night when I was a kid.)

 

Labia abscondam = Latin for “hide lips.”

 

Circulus umbra = Latin for “shadow circle.”

 

I also want to note that nothing of a sexual nature happened on the boat between Luna and Iliana. Probably. They were, after all, out in public. Even with magic, it's still possible someone could have seen them, especially with teachers like Snape and Dumbledore working there. They were just 'making out,' or 'snogging,' as the Brits say.

 

Calidum femur = Latin for “hot thigh.” Creates a pleasant warmth in the thigh region. (Wink wink nudge nudge say no more say no more.)

 

Vos laetificet = My guess at the incantation for the Cheering Charm. Means “cheer you up.” “Me laetificet” means “cheer me up,” and I tried “tu laetificet” at first, but “vos” seems to work better,  at least in terms of getting Google Translate to say 'vos laetificet' means 'cheer you up . ' Anyone who knows Latin, let me know if I'm wrong.

 

Eímai dípla sas [ee-may deep-la saas] = Greek for “I'm next to you.” Latin didn't work so well.


	10. What A Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is full of several unexpected returns, a Quidditch match goes horribly wrong, and Neville grows braver.

“ **The Many Faces Go To War: Chapter 10”**

By = Fayanora

 

**Chapter Ten: What A Pain**

 

Notes: Sorry for the late update. Lots of things have been colluding against me. Summer heat, dangerous smoke in the air from the forest fires, pitiful amount of inspiration for this story, and the fact I've been working on some original fiction I hope to get published someday. But here we are!

 

Started putting dates on these chapters where possible, it helps me keep track of where I am in the story. (Something I figured out when writing my original fiction.) Dates are provided by HP Lexicon's Order of the Phoenix calendar.

 

FORMATTING FOR INTERNAL VOICES = 'Single quotes with no italics' will be Adira/Addy unless someone is quoting something, ~Text in tildes~ will be Chandra, (Parentheses for Al,) [Brackets will be Hypatia], % Percentage symbols for Iliana %, # Pound signs for Mother/Avani, # * Asterisks for Zoey, * and {curly brackets for Tier.} Apologies for any confusion this may cause.

 

Text in _'Italics and single quotes'_ is Parseltongue.

 

J. K. Rowling owns this sandbox, I'm only playing in it.

 

This chapter may contain some quotations from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

 

***FAYANORA***

 

The following Saturday was the first meeting of their unofficial self-defense club. It had been tricky getting recruits to sign the contracts – there had been three different contracts because of the cell structure – and even trickier to figure out how the cells would be arranged. What they'd finally settled on was that each cell would need a leader, someone who was good enough at Defense to help everyone else get better. Cells were split by House, so there were three of them. Addy had wanted four, but Hypatia said she had plans of her own for Slytherin, that the inclusion of Slytherin House was rife with potential conflict, and so she was going to be doing her own thing with them. This was a fact Addy kept from everyone else but Hermione, Ron, Luna, and Cedric. Though considering the cells didn't know about each other anyway, it was a moot point.

 

Working out where to meet and when was also tricky. As the largest cell, Gryffindor cell – 16 Gryffindors and Luna, because Luna didn't get along well with the other Ravenclaws – took the Room of Requirement. The Hufflepuff cell also used the Room of Requirement, but that would be stretching the limit of what was safe, even with Adira and Cedric coordinating their use of it. For Ravenclaw cell (led by Hermione) Hypatia had found an old dueling chamber that had been locked up tight with various wards that were decades out of date, broke the wards on it, and put her own wards on it that could only be unlocked with a literal ward key that was further secured by being tied to Hermione's and Cedric's magical signatures, as well as her own.

 

While she was at it, Hypatia had also put a portable ward stone densely covered in tiny glowing runes into the part of the Room of Requirement full of centuries worth of junk hidden in it, which further secured the Room from discovery by hostile forces. It could be turned off or on by Hermione or any of the Potters.

 

As to the group's name, they discussed that during the first meeting, and Ginny suggested Dumbledore's Army, or DA for short. The other cells agreed this was a good name when Addy brought it up, and so it became official.

 

A couple weeks after the first meeting, the last real contact between the cells occurred, when Hermione introduced the message rings that would keep people updated about the time and date of the next meeting. This had taken a bit more work than she and Hypatia had anticipated, as each group of rings had to be tied only to their own cell, but Hypatia wanted the Potter ring to be able to call everyone else's rings in an emergency, and also they had to make the rings so that cell leaders could send messages to the Potter ring. Given all these things, they made the ring messages programmable enough to send short alphanumeric messages and heat up when the ring received a message. And of course, the rings were invisible until the invisibility spell was manually deactivated by the ring's owner, by tapping it with their wand.

 

Wanting to be kept in the loop, the other Potters insisted Hypatia keep them informed about her plans with the Slytherin version of the group. According to her, it took two weeks longer to convince Draco and some of the other Slytherins to go in for the idea, between the Slytherins not wanting to get into trouble with Umbridge, but Slinkhard's classes were such a bad joke that the Slytherin version of the group – which still didn't have a name – finally managed to get eight people in the group. Draco, Hypatia, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Blaise Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and Javier were in the group. Javier had been a hard sell, because of his association with Al, but Hypatia finally managed it by explaining the contract in detail. Javier, of course, had no idea who she was.

 

Javier was, in fact, getting on better with Al than even before. They'd been spending an hour here and there on weekends getting together to talk, and they were good enough friends by the end of October that they were thinking about dating again.

 

Quidditch practice had been going well. The team was getting pretty good, with some hiccups regarding McClaggen and Ron, but McClaggen was Reserve Keeper, so they wouldn't have to put up with him during games.

 

~

_October 30 th, 1995_

 

Adira was doing homework in her room before bed when Dobby appeared with a POP at her side, startling her. As she cleaned up the running ink mess she'd made because of it, she said, “Hi, Dobby. What can I do for you?”

 

“Begging your pardon, Miss, but it is what Dobby is here to do for you. Professor Dumbledore is wanting Dobby to take you to his office again, Miss.”

 

“Why? Wait, is this another meeting with that Kadu woman?”

 

Dobby nodded vigorously. “Yes, Miss, that is what he is wanting you for.”

 

“Alright Dobby, give me a moment,” she said, finishing up cleaning the homework, drying the ink, and putting it away before taking Dobby's hand.

 

With a POP, they were in Dumbledore's office again. Sure enough, the woman whose skin was so dark brown she was almost like a living shadow was there again. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, and the woman was sitting in front of it.

 

“Ah, and this must be Adira Potter,” Ms. Kadu said.

 

“Yes, that's me.”

 

“Good. I have been keeping track of your progress, and I am so far satisfied that you are taking appropriate steps to be a better person. With that in mind, I have decided to teach you some things about wandless magic, to help you control it.”

 

“Okay. That's good to hear. We've uh... kinda been neglecting that aspect of things lately.”

 

“That is actually good to hear. You should not be experimenting with wandless magic on your own, without an expert at your side to help reverse things. For wandless magic is, in fact, a controlled form of what is mistakenly called 'accidental magic.' A more accurate term would be 'emotional magic.'”

 

“Okay,” Adira said, sitting down at last.

 

“Despite the name, though, it _can_ be controlled, harnessed, tempered by the rational mind. It is far trickier than mastering wand magic, because magical creatures are usually able to control their powers consciously, and that automatic control of their magic combines with your own when using a wand. Some would say wands are a sort of crutch, but I would say instead that wands are like the crystal on a Muggle laser, focusing what is unfocused. The main difference is that having used a wand can increase your overall magical focus and control, which can translate over to wandless magic. Tell me, how often did you use wandless magic before getting your wand?”

 

“Er... not often. Average, like most kids.”

 

“A few scattered incidents when you were especially emotional, correct?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And since getting a wand?”

 

Adira didn't know how to answer that, so she shrugged.

 

“Would you say it is a lot more frequent than the years before getting your wand?”

 

She thought of the incidences. Zoey's use of wandless transfiguration and sticking charms, among others. Chandra's and Al's unintentional magic, and their later experiments to try to control wandless magic. And so on.

 

“Yes, I would.”

 

“I thought as much,” Mahala said. “Before either wands or staffs were invented, wizards and witches had emotional magic. They began to learn how to control it a couple years earlier than we do now, and it took well into adulthood to fully master. But with the use of a wand, you've got farther in your control of your magic than children of old would have at your age. The issue is that most people grow dependent on their wand. And why not? It makes magic so much easier. But then what happens if you lose your wand? Most wizards and witches these days would be completely helpless without their wands.

 

“That is actually why African mages prefer to focus on wandless magic. Christianity's poison on that continent is far more recent than here; African mages in many parts of the continent have been going through in modern days the kind of witch hunts that Europe once suffered from. So, not wishing to be dependent on a tool that can be taken from us, most of us hone our natural wandless talents. We still use wands, of course, but we are not helpless without them. And step one of mastering wandless magic is using a finger as a sort of substitute wand.”

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“I mean that part of how a wand focuses magic is by giving your mind a tool to focus on. If you just work yourself into a rage at someone without your wand, that magic could explode in any direction, doing virtually anything to anyone or anything in the vicinity. From what I've heard, you've already taken well to step one, by pointing at where you wish your power to go. Of course, I think you still have yet to master the second part of that first step: focusing your mind on the power moving through your finger as though your finger was a wand. From what I have heard of the incidents so far, you point at your target but focus your power through your vision.

 

“Now, it is entirely possible to use wandless magic by sight alone. But that is a very advanced technique. But you have to master the basics before you can master the advanced skills. This is why your results have been scattershot, why you keep finding yourself doing things you don't know how to reverse: because you don't have enough control yet for casting your power through vision to be much better than accidental magic.”

 

“Oh. So... so I have to learn to channel my magic through my finger, like my finger is a wand?”

 

“Yes. And to start you on the path of doing that, you will cast a light charm from your finger. Like this. _Lu_ _mos_ _!_ ” a light appeared at the end of the woman's index finger, exactly like the wand spell.

 

“I don't normally cast in Latin, of course, but that was for your benefit. But before you try it for yourself, you should put your wands aside. You do not want them going off accidentally.”

 

Adira took out both of their wands and set them on Dumbledore's desk. Then she looked at her finger, tried thinking of it as a wand, and then tried to make a light spell from it.

 

“ _Lu_ _mos_ _!_ ”

 

Nothing happened.

 

“Feel your magic. You feel your magic whenever you cast with a wand, but with wands you cast first and then feel it. With wandless magic, you need to feel your magic first, _then_ cast. It's a little tricky. It helps some people to think of strong emotions associated with light.”

 

Adira nodded, and thought about it. She didn't need to think hard to do that; she had spent so much time in her frequently-dark cupboard at the Dursley house that light was a huge relief. She hadn't been scared of the dark for a very long time, but she still preferred light over darkness. Light meant freedom. Light meant hope. Light meant, if not joy, at least a lot of relief.

 

“Lumos _!_ ” she cast, and her finger lit up.

 

“I did it!” she said. No sooner had she spoken than the light went out.

 

“That's another downside to wandless magic,” Mahala said. “Even with wands, you have to keep at least a trickle of magic flowing to keep a spell going, but it takes more magic and concentration to keep up a wandless spell the same way. This is because wands, being semi-conscious, can boost the power with their own magic. In wandless magic, though, your magic is entirely your own.”

 

Adira cast the spell again. First time, it didn't work. Second time, it did. She held it in place for almost a minute before getting tired and having to stop.

 

“See how much effort it takes to create and maintain a simple light spell? Your homework, until next time, is to practice that wandless light spell until you can hold it in place for five whole minutes.”

 

(Oh lovely, extra homework,) Al thought.

 

“So endeth the lesson,” Mahala said.

 

“One question first,” Adira asked. “Um... so do all wandless spells require an emotional component?”

 

“Yes and no. 'Yes,' because when you're starting out, the conscious application of the emotional component is necessary to give your magic a kick in the pants towards what you're trying to do with it. And 'no,' because once you've practiced a wandless spell often enough, the emotional component gets replaced by the familiar sensations of casting the spell. Basically, the way any magical training works – with or without wands – is by conditioning your mind to associate certain feelings and expectations with a certain effect; thus, with enough practice, a spell becomes something akin to muscle memory, something you do automatically once you've learned how, like flying a broomstick.

 

“Or... you're Muggle raised, right? So with cars, do you know the difference between an automatic and a stick shift? Yes? Good. Well, wand magic like you learn at Hogwarts is similar to learning how to drive an automatic. But wandless magic, though essentially the same thing, is like learning to drive a stick shift. In other words, it's difficult because you're learning a whole new system.

 

“Although, since each spell you learn is its own thing you have to learn independently, it's kind of more like trying to learn how to tango when all you know is waltzes. The steps are different, the style is different, and while learning one waltz can help you learn other waltzes faster, learning to waltz doesn't really help much in learning to tango.”

 

“Er... right. I think I get it,” Adira said.

 

“Good. Now is there anything else before I dismiss you? Other questions, more prophecies about the whereabouts of horcruxes?”

 

Addy smiled. “No, I don't think so.”

 

“Right. Well, I dismiss you.”

 

Addy looked to Dumbledore, who nodded in an affirmative way. So she called Dobby again, and he took her back to her room.

 

~

_November 2 nd, 1995_

 

[Oh by the way, don't let that 'Ron' friend of yours see what the Slytherins are doing tomorrow. I tried talking Draco out of it, but I didn't have much luck.]

 

That had been the cryptic message they'd received from Hypatia the night before the Gryffindor/Slytherin match. They'd written it down in case it was important.

 

Iliana wondered, as she got ready and went down to breakfast, what the Slytherins were doing this time. They'd already been engaging in psychological warfare against her team for the whole week leading up to the match, what more could they be up to? And something to do with Ron? What could that be? She didn't like it. Ron wasn't accustomed to the taunts of opposing teams like she was, and he had always been hot headed.

 

Ron wasn't at breakfast, not at first. Iliana had been eating already for five minutes before Dean and Seamus came into the Great Hall, pulling Ron along between them as surreptitiously as possible. Ron looked sweaty, pale, and sick.

 

“He hasn't caught some bug, has he?” Iliana asked, wondering if this was what Hypatia had been referring to.

 

“Nah, mate, he's just a wee bit nervous,” Seamus said.

 

“It'll be alright, Ron,” Dean said, adjusting his Quidditch uniform – Iliana had insisted the reserves attend in uniform in case they were needed. “You just need to eat something.”

 

Ron shook his head like they'd suggested he face a firing squad.

 

Ron received a rousing welcome at the Gryffindor table, where everyone was wearing red and gold, but far from raising Ron's spirits the cheers seemed to sap the last of his morale; he collapsed on to the nearest bench looking as though he were facing his final meal.

 

“I must've been mental to do this,” he said in a croaky whisper. “ _Mental.”_

 

“No worries, Ron,” Iliana said. “It's just pre-game nerves. I had a bad case of them the first time, too. You'll be fine.”

 

“I'm rubbish,” croaked Ron. “I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?”

 

“You're a great Keeper as long as you ignore the Slytherins and the crowd as a whole. Just pretend they aren't there. Pretend we're playing scrimmage.”

 

“Right, like we'd be playing a friendly game with the Slytherins,” Ron said.

 

Hermione and Ginny sat down opposite them wearing red and gold scarves, gloves and rosettes.

 

"How're you feeling?" Ginny asked Ron, who was now staring into the dregs of milk at the bottom of his empty cereal bowl as though seriously considering attempting to drown himself in them.

 

"He's just nervous," said Iliana.

 

"Well, that's a good sign, I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous," said Hermione heartily.

 

"Hello," said a vague and dreamy voice from behind them. Iliana looked up with a grin: Luna Lovegood had drifted over from the Ravenclaw table. Many people were staring at her and a few were openly laughing and pointing; she had managed to procure a hat shaped like a life-size lion's head, which was perched precariously on her head.

 

"Good morning, Iliana. I'm supporting Gryffindor," said Luna, pointing unnecessarily at her hat. "Look what it does . . ."

 

She reached up and tapped the hat with her wand. It opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump.

 

"It's good, isn't it?" said Luna happily. "I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway . . . good luck, Ronald!"

 

She set her hand on Iliana's shoulder gently, in a way Umbridge couldn't see, then drifted away. They had not quite recovered from the shock of Luna's hat before Angelina came hurrying towards them, accompanied by Katie and Alicia.

 

“We're ready when you are, Captain Potter,” Angelina said.

 

“Good. But Ron needs to eat something. You go on ahead without us, we'll catch up.”

 

It became clear after ten minutes, however, that Ron was not capable of eating anything more and Iliana thought it best to get him down to the changing rooms. As they rose from the table, Hermione got up, too, and taking Iliana's arm she drew him to one side.

 

"Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges," she whispered urgently.

 

Iliana looked questioningly at her, but she shook her head warningly; Ron had just ambled over to them, looking lost and desperate.

 

"Good luck, Ron," said Hermione, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. "And you, Iliana — "

 

Ron seemed to come to himself slightly as they walked back across the Great Hall. He touched the spot on his face where Hermione had kissed him, looking puzzled, as though he was not quite sure what had just happened. He seemed too distracted to notice much around him, but Iliana cast a curious glance at the crown-shaped badges as they passed the Slytherin table, and this time she made out the words etched on to them:

 

_Weasley is our King_

 

With an unpleasant feeling that this could mean nothing good, she hurried Ron across the Entrance Hall, down the stone steps and out into the icy air.

 

The frosty grass crunched under their feet as they hurried down the sloping lawns towards the stadium. There was no wind at all and the sky was a uniform pearly white, which meant that visibility would be good without the drawback of direct sunlight in the eyes. Iliana pointed out these encouraging factors to Ron as they walked, but she was not sure that Ron was listening.

 

When everyone was assembled in the Gryffindor locker room, Iliana began her speech.

 

“Right. So, my first game as Captain. This is the first game for some of you, too. Reserves, you're here in case the Slytherins put one of us into the Hospital Wing. I don't expect to need you, but better safe than sorry.

 

“I've only just got the final line-up for Slytherin,” she continued, consulting a piece of parchment. “Last year's Beaters, Derrick and Bole, have left, but Montague has replaced them with our two least favorite thugs, Crabbe and Goyle. Anyone who's unfamiliar with them, they're like a pair of dwarf trolls, with just as much going on in the brains department.” She paused for the smattering of nervous laughter her joke had elicited.

 

“Anyway, I want everyone to remember that no matter how well or poorly we do, this is still just a game. I don't want to lose, but if we do, life goes on. Don't stress out about this. Don't let the Slytherins get to you. You're all here because you're all great at Quidditch, you wouldn't be here if I didn't believe you could win this.

 

“McClaggen, I shouldn't have to say this because you're just a reserve, so I'm going to tell you just once today and if I have to tell you again, I'll be very angry: you do _not_ know better than the rest of us. Even if you did, you are _not_ the captain, I am. So don't offer any opinions or advice unless I ask for it. Understand?”

 

Glowering at her, McClaggen nodded.

 

“Good. I'll hold you to that. The rest of you, just remember your training, ignore the crowd, and play as well as you can. But don't stress out. Some nerves are good, but there comes a point you just have to buckle down and say 'Sod off!' to your anxieties. Understand?”

 

Everyone nodded. It was pretty clear to all of them she was talking mainly to Ron, but everyone was too polite to say anything.

 

“Good. One last thing: Umbridge is out there, watching us. Don't give her any excuse, no matter how feeble, to muck this up for us, if you can help it. Don't lose your cool, don't cheat, don't foul. Play a good, clean, friendly game. Don't retaliate against the Slytherins. It's unfair, I know, but she'll be looking for any excuse at all, that's the kind of woman she is, and she has the power to back up that nastiness because she's Minister Fudge's right hand woman. So we have to be above reproach. You can always get revenge on them later, if it comes to that. Understand?”

 

They all nodded. Even Ron, though just barely, as though afraid he was going to puke.

 

“Excellent. Now let's get out there and crush some snakes!”

 

The team rose, shouldered their brooms and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight, A roar of sound greeted them in which Iliana could still hear singing, though it was muffled by the cheers and whistles. 

 

The Slytherin team was standing waiting for them. They, too, were wearing those silver crown-shaped badges. The new Captain, Montague, was built along the same lines as Dudley Dursley with massive forearms like hairy hams. Behind him lurked Crabbe and Goyle, almost as large, blinking stupidly in the sunlight, swinging their new Beaters' bats. Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught Iliana's eye and smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on his chest.

 

% When he finds out who Hypatia is, the look on his face is going to be priceless, % she thought, a grin on her face that made Malfoy look suddenly worried.

 

“ Captains, shake hands,” Madam Hooch said, and Iliana offered Montague her left hand, braced for him to crush it into a thousand pieces. He did not disappoint. She tried not to let the pain reach her face, nor the relief when he finally let go. She hoped he hadn't actually broken anything in her hand, and was glad she'd thought to offer her off hand to him.

 

"Mount your brooms . . ." 

 

Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.

 

The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Out of the corner of her eye Iliana saw Ron streak off towards the goal hoops. Iliana zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco Malfoy was doing exactly the same.

 

"And it's Johnson — Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me — "

 

"JORDAN!" yelled Professor McGonagall.

 

" — just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest — and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's — ouch — been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe . . . Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and — nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away — "

 

Lee Jordan's commentary rang through the stadium and Iliana listened as hard as she could through the wind whistling in her ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing.

 

" — dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger — close call, Alicia — and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

 

And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:

 

"Weasley cannot save a thing,

He cannot block a single ring,

That's why Slytherins all sing:

Weasley is our King!

 

"Weasley was born in a bin

He always lets the Quaffle in

Weasley will make sure we win

Weasley is our King!"

 

" — and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted, and as Iliana swerved, her insides boiling at what she had just heard; she knew Lee was trying to drown out the words of the song. "Come on now, Angelina — looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! — SHE SHOOTS — SHE — aaaah . . ."

 

Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zig-zagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron.

 

"Weasley is our King,

Weasley is our King,

He always lets the Quaffle in

Weasley is our King."

 

Iliana could not help herself: abandoning her search for the Snitch, she wheeled around to watch Ron, a lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goalhoops while the massive Warrington pelted towards him.

 

"— and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead — "

 

A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:

 

"Weasley cannot save a thing,

He cannot block a single ring . . ."

 

" — so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team — come on, Ron!"

 

But the scream of delight came from the Slytherins' end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them straight through Ron's central hoop.

 

"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below, "so that's ten-nil to Slytherin — bad luck, Ron."

 

The Slytherins sang even louder, but Iliana had stopped listening. She'd gotten the gist.  Instead, she looked harder for the snitch.

 

% You could have tried harder, Hypatia, % she thought.

 

[No, I really couldn't have. Not without being really suspicious. Anyway, if he can't take the heat, he should stay out of the kitchen. He wanted attention, now he's got it. A classic case of 'be careful what you wish for.']

 

( Come on, Ron, ignore the little inbred bastards! )

 

Al took control of the body then, and flew Iliana over near Ron, where he used her voice to shout, “Those little punk-ass shit-for-brains don't have anything to say worth listening to! They don't know you! You're worth 30 of them! TO HELL WITH  ' EM! PROVE  ' EM WRONG! GIVE 'EM THE PROVERBIAL TWO FINGERED SALUTE!”

 

Ron stared in shock at Iliana, especially since her form had momentarily blurred together with Al's, but then he gulped and nodded. He still looked anxious, but he also looked a little defiant and determined. Good. That's what Al had been going for.

 

“ —  and Pucey's dodged Alicia again and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!”

 

It was a near thing, Ron  _almost_ missed it, but he just barely squeaked by, blocking the shot so the Quaffle bounced off his hand and then off the goal hoop. A great cheer came from the crowd and from Iliana, who went back to hunting for the snitch. She passed a sour-faced Draco Malfoy, and stuck her tongue out at him as she zipped by.

 

Ron didn't stop all the goals. It wasn't an instant transition like you'd see in inspirational sports stories. But every time Ron missed one, Al came zooming back and gave him a profanity-laden pep talk. So despite a few Slytherin goals, Gryffindor was up in points, and Ron was looking determined and nervous in equal measure.

 

Iliana saw the snitch, that little bit of gold,  down by one of the goal posts . She glanced at Draco, who hadn't seen it. Wanting to see if the score could creep up a little first, she zoomed off in the opposite direction. Draco took the bait and went after her. She reached forward like she was grabbing the snitch, zooming closer and closer to the ground...

 

“AHH!” she screamed, clutching her head in agony. Her scar was on fire, and she was still on a collision course with the ground. But she fought through the pain and pulled up so much at the last second that her broom's tail carved a furrow in the pitch, and she went spinning out of control.

 

It took everything she had to keep hold of her broom as she sped off in gods-knew which direction. She didn't know what way was up or down, north or south, east or west. She had no idea where the goal posts were, where the stands were. She could have been about to hit the stands for all she knew, and her scar was still burning like hot iron pressed to her forehead.

 

WHAM! She'd hit something, all forward momentum abruptly terminated,  her Firebolt continuing on for a couple feet before stopping  abruptly  in  mid-air. Somehow she was still conscious, and found herself sliding down a pole. She must have hit a goal post. Desperate to stop falling, she grabbed for the pole. Her hand wrapped around metal, but she kept falling. Finally, though, she managed to hook the goal post with one of her legs, and got enough of a grip on it that she stopped falling.  Now she was hanging upside-down from the middle of the goal post.

 

“And it looks like  Captain Potter hit a goal post,  after that nasty plough she took . I hope she's – wait, is that the snitch? IT  _IS!_ SHE CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS! TWO-HUNDRED TEN TO SIXTY!!!”

 

“Ugh... great,” she said weakly. “ Can somebody get me down, now?”

 

“Sure thing, Potty,” said Bletchley with a sour, angry expression.

 

“Great. Of  _course_ I had to hit the Slytherin goal post. Never mind, Bletchley, I can get myself down.”

 

“Suit yourself, Potty.”

 

Pulling herself up by her legs, she then grabbed onto the goal post and got out her wand, casting a feather-light on herself. This enabled her to hold on long enough to Summon her Firebolt and climb back onto it. Its back end was messy with mud, and it looked like it might need some cosmetic repair, but it still flew just fine. Exhausted and beat-up, she flew down to the ground where the rest of the team was celebrating.

 

No sooner had she landed than Luna came running, Hermione and Neville hot on her tail, and grabbed Iliana in a passionate and worried embrace.  Iliana got a faceful of roaring lion hat before Luna pulled it off of her head.

 

“I was so worried! I thought you were going to get hurt or worse!” Iliana noted, in something like grogginess, that Luna was crying.

 

“Yeah, I was pretty worried there myself, Luna. But I'm okay. A little sore and dazed, and—OW! And I think I broke a rib or three... but other than that, I'm fine.”

 

“ Practising for your career as a pole-dance r , Potty?” Malfoy asked.

 

“Only in your wildest wet dreams,” she  shot back. She was glad to see his face turn tomato red.  A bunch of people around her laughed.

 

“ Miss Potter, you should get to the Hospital Wing as soon as possible, if you think you've broken something,” McGonagall said. “And even if you haven't, it's better safe than sorry.”

 

Iliana looked lazily at McGonagall. “Oh, yeah. I know. I will, Professor.”

 

“What happened out there, Miss Potter?” McGonagall asked with concern.

 

Iliana paused to think. She'd spotted Umbridge coming this way. “Goggles came loose, something got in my eye,” she said. The plausibility of this lie was aided by the fact that her goggles were hanging off of one ear. When she realized this, she grabbed them and pocketed them.

 

“I see. Well you'd better have that eye looked at as well, Miss Potter.”

 

“I'll do that. I'll be back later, everyone. Gotta go to the Wospital Hing. I mean the Hospital Wing.”

 

The moment she started to walk again, though, she wobbled so badly she collapsed into Luna. “OW!” she said, her broken ribs reminding her they were there.

 

“Alright, somebody take me there, I can't do it myself after all.”

 

~

 

She'd been right. Madam Pomfrey confirmed that she'd broken three ribs and added that she'd cracked a vertebrae. She also had a cut on her head and had a mild concussion. She hadn't noticed the cut because the blood hadn't left her hair.

 

Luna, Ron, and Hermione came in to visit her once she was patched up.

 

“ _Kónos siopís,_ ” Hermione cast, her wand making an upward spiral.

 

“Mastered that one, I see,” Iliana said. “Good.”

 

“So what really happened, Iliana?” Ron asked. “One minute you're diving for the snitch, and the next minute you screamed and hit the ground and ran into a goal post!”

 

“Yes, don't tell us this rubbish about something in your eye,” Hermione said.

 

“Yeah, that was a lie for Umbridge's benefit. My scar hurt. That's why I screamed and almost became part of the earth again.”

 

“Your scar hurt? But why?”

 

Iliana looked around the room. There wasn't anyone else there, but she decided not to take any chances. Getting out her wand, she cast Hominem Revelio. She detected only her friends, and Madam Pomfrey in her office. So she then cast Labia Abscondam, a spell with the incantation 'orationem abscondam,' and 'Ego occultatum.'

 

“What's with all the high security?” Ron asked.

 

“When Vol—Moldywart rose last June, he used my blood to make his new body. Nobody suspected that with the Philosopher's Stone hidden inside by Zoey, that this was a monumentally bad idea for him. The ritual activated parts of the Stone that were in my blood, or linked to my blood somehow. Anyway, point is, all summer long instead of waging war, Moldyshorts was busy having to deal with the Stone transmuting every metal in his body into gold – which included calcium, sodium, potassium, and a bunch of other obscure metals.

 

“So his bones were breaking, he was having seizures, experiencing memory problems, and generally having a bloody awful summer. Meanwhile, the only reason he didn't die again is because the Stone was also turning the water in his blood into Elixir of Life.”

 

Hermione gasped, as though the thought of even someone as evil as Voldemort suffering that fate was too horrible to imagine. Ron blinked in astonishment and said “Really?” When Iliana confirmed she was serious, he started to snort with repressed laughter, then laughed so hard the only thing keeping Madam Pomfrey from running into the room was the spells Iliana had cast. Iliana looked at Luna. Like Hermione, she looked sad, but in a 'shaking her head sadly' sort of way.

 

When quiet had returned, Iliana said, “Over the summer, they... killed him again. So they could redo the resurrection ritual. But it takes a couple months to get him back up to enough health to try again. When my scar hurt earlier... I was a bit preoccupied with not dying, but thinking back on it... he's back. Again.”

 

“So we had a reprieve we didn't know about, but now it's gone?” Hermione asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Wait, does this mean you were technically lying to Umbridge when you said he's back?” Ron asked.

 

“Not really. I did see him come back. I only have... Dumbledore's word that he'd been ill, and that he'd been killed again later. I knew about it because he had to consult me to try to figure out what was going on with Moldyshorts. Anyway, the scar hurting means I know for sure he's still alive. Or alive again, rather. And he was... happy. Happy to be back.”

 

Luna hugged her, for what Iliana sensed was more Luna's benefit than hers.

 

“Don't worry. Now we know he's back, we're putting up our occlumency barriers again.”

 

~

 

Madam Pomfrey insisted Iliana stay overnight at the hospital wing for observation, as she usually did for accidents like this. And so, Iliana wasn't with Ron, Hermione, and Neville when they went to go meet Hagrid, who had returned from his trip to the land of the Giants. It had been an amazing tale that Adira and the others wished they could have heard first-hand, even if Umbridge did almost catch them out of bounds past curfew.

 

Only one member of the Potter crew hadn't been bound by their imprisonment in the Hospital Wing: Hypatia. She had a constant connection going with the transfigured construct that looked like her, and as soon as curfew hit, this construct had climbed out of the trunk with the Marauder's Map and gone to visit Draco and mock him – just a little – for the failure of his Weasley Is Our King song.

 

She also spent some time on her other projects. While she was working on Project Arachnophobia, her omniocular spy-ders noticed a disturbance in the Forbidden Forest, and saw that Hagrid had brought a Giant back with him. Hypatia sighed and rubbed her construct's eyes wearily, but ultimately decided to just keep an eye on this new situation. Hopefully it wouldn't interfere with any of her plans.

 

[Well no wonder it took him forever to get back,] she thought.

 

~

 

Hermione had visited Hagrid on Sunday to plead with him to teach something boring in class, and tried to drive home the point by pointing out that Sirius had been sacked already. But Hagrid was insistent on doing his own thing, Umbridge be damned.

 

Hermione returned from Hagrid's just before lunch, shivering slightly, her robes damp to the knees.

 

"So?" said Ron, looking up when she entered. "Got all his lessons planned for him?"

 

"Well, I tried," she said dully, sinking into a chair beside Adira. She pulled out her wand and gave it a complicated little wave so that hot air streamed out of the tip; she then pointed this at her robes, which began to steam as they dried out. "He wasn't even there when I arrived, I was knocking for at least half an hour. And then he came stumping out of the Forest — "

 

"What's he keeping in there? Did he say?" Ron asked.

 

" _Kónos siopís_ ,” Adira found herself casting, stopping Hermione from speaking. She was confused until she felt Hypatia speak.

 

“Hagrid brought a Giant back with him.”

 

“He WHAT?” Hermione shouted. Luckily, nobody outside of their small group could hear her.

 

“A Giant. He brought one back with him. It looked a little on the runty side for a Giant, when I saw it. Must be a juvenile. If it is, I'm disappointed in Hagrid, kidnapping a child.”

 

“A Giant child!” Ron said.

 

“If it's a juvenile,” Hermione said. “It might just be abnormally short for a Giant. How big was it?”

 

“It looked to be about 15 or 16 feet tall,” Hypatia said.

 

“How do you know any of this when you were in the Hospital Wing all night long?” Hermione asked.

 

“Because Hypatia can be in two places at once,” Adira said. “She's who was talking just a bit ago.”

 

“Oh don't speak rubbish,” Hermione said.

 

“No, it's really true. Here, I'll let her explain it.”

 

Without changing their form, Hypatia explained the process in enough detail to get the gist without giving away too much. Ron looked flabbergasted, and Hermione was speechless for some time.

 

“Holy CRICKET!” she finally said. “That's really impressive magic!”

 

“Yes, well I had to cheat a lot to get it done.”

 

“Even more impressive for doing it in a non-standard way. Hypatia... you're not going to publish any of this, are you?”

 

“Nope. Much too dangerous in the wrong hands. It's far worse than Polyjuice Potion could ever be. Though I'm not certain how many witches or wizards could actually manage to control one. Only downside to it is that the construct can't cast magic. So I still have to go out for real on occasion. Oh and Ron? If you ever tell the Twins about this, I will personally ensure you can only speak in limericks for the rest of your life.”

 

“There's no need to threaten me,” Ron complained.

 

“Good,” Hypatia said.

 

After a moment, Ron said, “Wait, does that mean Hypatia was in the Forbidden Forest? What if one of these constructs of hers gets caught?”

 

“I wasn't in the forest. I can see into the forest from the Chamber of Secrets.”

 

“You WHAT?” Ron said.

 

“How?” Hermione asked.

 

“There's a room down there, you can see the entire school and grounds down there through a sort of magical security system. Well, the corridors, classrooms, and common rooms, anyway. Personal spaces and toilets are inaccessible.” She decided not to mention the fact her spy-ders could compensate for that. “Well, I mean, there is _one_ toilet I can see into. Apparently the entrance Riddle was using – the one in Myrtle's bathroom – was just a storage closet back in the day, and got converted into a toilet later. The main entrance to the Chamber is in Slytherin's quarters.”

 

“Slytherin's quarters? And where's that at?” asked Hermione.

 

“In the dungeons, of course,” Ron said.

 

“You'd think so, but apparently not. It seems Slytherin was indeed pretty clever and cunning. When Helga Hufflepuff made the Room of Requirement, Slytherin sneaked in and made a couple modifications to the Room. Main one being that the main entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is inside the Room of Requirement.”

 

“WHAT?”

 

“Yes. It's not at all easy to get in that way, though. I think it was easier once upon a time, but someone else along the way made it more difficult. So I still use the 'back door' in Myrtle's bathroom.”

 

“How do you do that without getting messy?”

 

“I have my ways.”

 

“You mentioned two modifications to the Room,” Hermione said. “What's the second one?”

 

“A secret passageway out of the castle that nobody else likely knows about. I think it leads into the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, but I haven't actually gone down it yet to verify that.”

 

“Wow!” said Ron. “And it's not on the Marauder's Map?”

 

“A lot of stuff isn't on the Map. The Marauders could only map what they knew about. The House Elf quarters aren't on the map, the Room of Requirement isn't on it, and neither is the Chamber of Secrets or either of its two main entrances.”

 

“House elf quarters?” Ron asked.

 

“Well yes, they have to live somewhere. They do need sleep, just like humans. They work in shifts.”

 

“Where are their quarters?”

 

“I haven't bothered to look. We could ask Dobby, but I don't really care. I don't feel like it'd be polite to bother them in their own space.”

 

Hermione nodded. “Well I don't know about you lot, Addy, but I know Ron still has homework to finish for tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah, I'd better get on that,” Ron said with a sigh.

 

Adira tore down the privacy spells, and spent the rest of the night reading. Adira liked to get her homework done as soon as possible, so she didn't have to worry about it and hurry at the last minute like Ron did.

 

~

 

Monday passed by with relative ease. Umbridge seemed mildly excited about something – Addy thought she knew what – and was distracted during class. Snape was more reserved than usual, not being nearly as snippy as he usually was. She thought he was trying to give the impression of muted happiness, but the little tells in his body language that she'd learned to read gave away the fact he was feeling disturbed but resolute, so she thought she knew what that was about as well. Though she wished he'd stop glancing at her when he thought she wasn't looking; she wasn't sure what _that_ particular look was about, but it was related somehow to why he felt disturbed.

 

(Maybe Moldyshorts is trying to get Snape to kidnap us for him?) Al suggested. Addy didn't respond; she didn't know how to respond to that.

 

So Monday passed quickly for a Monday and became Tuesday. Charms and Transfiguration went well, but after lunch was Care of Magical Creatures, and none of them were keen to find out what Hagrid had in mind for his first lesson, especially since he looked like he'd been fighting mountain trolls and losing.

 

Lunch finished, they went to Hagrid's hut for their first class of the year with Hagrid. As she worried what he would bring to class, she thought a much better gift to Hagrid than letting him teach would have been letting him train as a wizard so he could own a legal wand, seeing as he'd had nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets thing he'd been framed for. Surely Dumbledore could manage that? Well, not at the moment maybe, but once the Ministry came back to its senses?

 

They were surprised to find that Umbridge wasn't there yet. They didn't dare hope she'd be absent for Hagrid's class, not with Adira there to try to rile up.

 

Hagrid was taking them into the Forbidden Forest today, something most of them were not at all keen to do, especially Draco. He clearly still hadn't forgotten his first/last foray into the forest. Adira thought it odd that the Forbidden Forest was apparently only forbidden without a teacher along for the trip. Bit of a misnomer, that.

 

Getting more excited as they got farther in, Hagrid's enthusiasm wasn't helping matters, especially since he was still beat up and very bruised. He wouldn't explain what had done it to him, but Addy thought she knew: the Giant in the Forest.

 

For Adira, finally seeing what Hagrid had come to show them was anticlimactic and a relief, as it was just thestrals. Everyone else in class was afraid of them, even Neville to a degree, which was odd because apparently he'd been able to see them for years as well.

 

Holding her tongue for most of the early part of the lesson, Addy finally got annoyed when everyone gasped as Hermione explained that only people who'd seen death could see thestrals.

 

“Honestly,” Addy said, “what's all this fuss about? They pull the school carriages! They always have! I've been able to see them since the end of first year! Heck, Luna sometimes comes out and feeds them! If they weren't safe to be around, they wouldn't be trusted with the carriages!”

 

“Loony sneaks into the Forbidden Forest to feed invisible freaky monsters?” Draco asked, sneering.

 

“Um... I don't think _Luna_ actually goes in. She knows how to call them, like Hagrid does,” Addy lied. While Luna probably did know how to call them, Addy knew for a fact that Luna went into the Forbidden Forest to feed them.

 

It was a good thing she lied, though, because there was a horribly familiar sound just then.

 

"Hem, hem."

 

Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was standing a few feet away from Addy, wearing her green hat and cloak again, her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid, who had never heard Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.

 

"Hem, hem."

 

"Oh, hello!" Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.

 

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" said Umbridge, in a loud, slow voice, as though she were addressing somebody both foreign and very slow. "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"

 

As the conversation between her and Hagrid unfolded, Addy and the others focused on their occlumency, trying to stay calm. It wasn't easy. Umbridge kept talking to Hagrid like he was mentally handicapped, pretended she couldn't understand his accent (honestly, it wasn't nearly as bad as some of the accents she'd heard other students using), and flustering Hagrid more and more the longer things went for. She also slowly and loudly said aloud what she was writing on her clipboard as she wrote it, making Draco and the other Slytherins laugh. Hypatia frowned at him, not that he'd think anything of that, though, since he couldn't see her. But she was going to remind him of his truce, and remind him that Hagrid was one of “Potter's” friends.

 

Worse than that, though, was her walking around among the class asking questions of the Slytherins, questions that were extremely racist and rude against Hagrid. Addy wondered how Umbridge expected to get an accurate idea of Hagrid's teaching style when she kept disrupting his lesson. But she didn't dare say this to the bitch aloud, in case it was considered “back sass” enough to get Addy in detention again.

 

But there were outward signs of the internal struggle, for anyone who happened to glance over at the right time. Her features were blurring and shifting, like it was taking a massive effort to maintain her present appearance. What sounded like a stiff wind gushed through the treetops, knocking off small branches and sending them flying sideways. The thestrals all backed away from her, looking agitated. This caught the attention of people like Neville, who could see them. Several pairs of eyes looked her way, including Hagrid's. He looked worried.

 

Now Umbridge was looking at her, too.

 

“Oh my, is something amiss, Mr. Potter?”

 

Hagrid stared at Umbridge incredulously at these words before looking back at Adira. “Addy? Wha's t'matter?”

 

“What?” Addy asked, in a perfectly calm voice. “Nothing wrong here that I know of.”

 

Her face blurred again, her hair shortening on one side of her head, her eye color changing on that side. Al was trying to hold himself back as well, but wasn't succeeding well. One leg got taller, and she almost fell over.

 

“Mr. Potter, you are disrupting this class. As High Inquisitor, I shall have to insist you stop,” she said, but it was clear by her tone and expression that she wanted them to do the opposite.

 

Addy tried her best to look confused. “ _I'm_ not disrupting this class, Madam Umbridge.” She stopped herself before she could say the implied 'You are.'

 

Umbridge stalked forward like a tiger—no, more like a very fat weasel with short legs—on the prowl. She was smirking at Addy.

 

“Who would you say is disrupting this class, then?” Umbridge asked her quietly.

 

“Well,” she said equally quietly, carefully weighing her words, “since you asked... I just find it... _interesting_ that you're asking students questions about the class and its teacher while Professor Hagrid is trying to teach class, Professor Umbridge. You didn't do that in any of the other classes you inspected. It appears to be making Professor Hagrid's job very difficult. I'm _sure_ you didn't do it on purpose. I'm sure you just had a brilliant new idea for your job and got so excited you had a momentary lapse of etiquette. After all, you yourself told me that we must respect teachers.”

 

She moved even closer to Addy and said quietly but sharply, “Are you criticizing my methods, Mr. Potter?”

 

“Oh I would never dream of doing that, Professor!” Addy said, looking shocked. “I was simply curious about the change in technique is all. I only ask because Professor Hagrid seems to be finding it difficult to teach with you talking over him. I just thought maybe you hadn't noticed this little faux pas of yours in your enthusiasm for your job. I was trying to point it out gently and quietly to you so you could correct it without embarrassment. After all, _you_ taught me we have to respect all teachers, Professor Umbridge. Or did I misunderstand that lesson?”

 

Ah, talking like this to her was calming them down. Their body was returning to normal, the thestrals were calming, and the apparent wind had died out. Umbridge, however, was looking sour.

 

“I am not quite sure what you mean, Mr. Potter. Which lesson would that be?”

 

“Well, the one where you said – and I quote – 'contradicting teachers is disrespecting them.' Which is why I didn't try to correct your faux pas until you asked me who I thought was being disruptive, Professor. I had hoped I was being subtle enough for you to catch it and realize your mistake on your own. I apologize that I'm not better at subtlety, Professor.”

 

“And you think my words apply to 'Professor' Hagrid, do you?”

 

“I assumed so, yes. After all, everyone has their own ideas about what makes a good teacher or a bad teacher. Professor Binns was universally considered a bad teacher, and Professor Snape is considered by many to be a bad teacher. But we must respect all teachers, even if we think they're bad teachers. I presumed that's why I was made to write 'I must not contradict my teachers.' It seemed obvious that the lesson was that we have to respect teachers, no matter what, because we are just lowly students. Was I wrong, Professor?”

 

Addy could almost hear the gears turning in Umbridge's head as she tried to find some way to twist this into an excuse to give Addy a detention. But Addy was being calm, polite, careful with her words, her expression looking politely curious, and she was quoting Umbridge's own words back at her.

 

“I see,” Umbridge finally said. There was a pause, Addy waiting patiently, before she added, “Hmph,” and walked off.

 

Umbridge spent the rest of the class writing in her clipboard silently. The Slytherins tried taking up the slack, but with a very sour expression, Umbridge said through gritted teeth, “You must respect teachers, Mr. Malfoy, even sub-standard ones. It is not a student's place to disrespect a teacher.” She broke a pencil then, and repaired it with her wand. “We have rules in polite society, those rules must be followed.”

 

She did not speak again until after class was dismissed, but her attempts to talk to the other students were thwarted by people being keen to get to their next class on time.

 

Ron, Hermione, and Neville caught up to her on their way to the greenhouses.

 

“Did you get another detention?” Hermione asked.

 

“Nope. Instead, I discovered that I too have a talent for using words to outmaneuver people. I threw her own words back at her. That's her secret, I think: no matter how awful she is, she never does anything against the rules. She always has to find some way to work within the rules, even if that entails changing the rules. So I used her own love of the rules against her. Set it up so that anything she did to Hagrid in his class would be seen as being a poor role model for the students. She wants us all to be well-behaved little robots, so when I made her realize she was undermining her own desire for order, she found herself painted into a corner. She even had to defend Hagrid against Malfoy, if she didn't want to encourage the spread of chaos and disrespect of teachers.”

 

Her three friends all laughed at this, Neville looking awed as he laughed with them.

 

“I think I have a new hobby now,” Addy said.

 

 

To their surprise, they found Umbridge at Herbology, as well. She glared at Addy but was mostly quiet as she wrote things on her clipboard. It wasn't until toward the end of the lesson when something happened.

 

“OW! It bit me!” Umbridge shouted. “GET IT OFF!”

 

She was being bitten by a Chinese Chomping Cabbage. Professor Sprout cast a spell at it that made it let go and hop away.

 

“I think these plants are far too dangerous to be covered by this class! What if some hooligan lets these beasts free and they hurt other innocent people? Or students?”

 

Professor Sprout looked too scared to speak. To everyone's surprise, the next words were from Neville.

 

“You were poking it with your pencil, Professor, and hurting it. Of course it bit you! Professor.”

 

Umbridge glared at Neville now, but he didn't back down. “Chinese Chomping Cabbages don't normally bite people. It's a defense mechanism. It thought you were going to hurt it or kill it, so it got scared and bit you.”

 

“Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom,” Umbridge said, in a flustered voice. There was a smattering of outcry against this, but Addy just rolled her eyes and went back to working with her own cabbage.

 

“He's right, you know,” Professor Sprout said. “I did mention that at the beginning of class, in fact, Professor Umbridge.”

 

“Well you should put some kind of wire cage around them if they're that dangerous,” Umbridge said, and went back to silently writing on her clipboard.

 

When Umbridge left, Neville was still helping put things away. Professor Sprout peeked out to make sure she was actually going, then said, “Twenty points to Gryffindor for correctly identifying the problem, Mr. Longbottom.”

 

Neville smiled. “Thank you, Professor Sprout.”

 

 

**Endnotes:** Ego occultatum = “I have hidden.” Intended as a notice-me-not spell. One of the spells the Potters found in a book.

 

Orationem abscondam = “Speech hide” Iliana's being a mite paranoid with this one in addition to the cone of silence spell. Also a “found in a book” spell.

 

Thanks to Deviant Art user Hogwarts-Castle for floor plans to the castle.


End file.
